DELSARTE 

SYSTEM  OF 

ORATORY 


OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY 


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DELSARTE 


SYSTEM  OF 


ORATORY 


CONTAINING 


1.  The  Complete  Work  of  L'Abbe''Delaumosne 

2.  The  Complete  Work  of  Mme.  Angelique  Arnaud 

3.  All  the  Literary  Remains  of  Francois  Delsarte 

(Given  in  his  own  words) 

4.  The  Lecture  and  Lessons  Given  oy  Mme.  Marie 

Geraldy  (Delsarte' s  Daughter)  in  America 

5.  Articles  by  Alfred  Giraudet,  Francis  A.  Duri- 

vage,  and  Hector  Berlioz 


(AimmS^ 


m^ 


w 


New  York 

EDGAR  S.WERNER 

1.895 


Copyright 

By  EDGAR  S.  WERNER 

1882,  1884,  1887,  1892 


All  Rights  Reserved 


CONTENTS. 


DEUDMOSNE  ON  DELSARTE. 


PAGE. 

Biographical  Sketch xvii 

Preface xxiii 


PART  FIRST. 

VOICE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Preliminary  Ideas  —  Criterion  of  the  Oratorical  Art,        3 

CHAPTER  II. 

OF  THE   VOICE, 

Organic  Apparatus  of  the  Voice  —  The  Voice  in 
Relation  to  Compass  —  The  Voice  in  Relation 
to  Vowels  —  Practical  Conclusions 9 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  VOICE  IN  RELATION  TO  INTENSITY  OF  SOUND. 

What  is  Understood  by  Intensity  of  Sound — Means 
of  Augmenting  the  Timbre  of  the  Voice  — 
Rules  for  Intensity  of  Sound 19 


mUdOO^  051 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   VOICE    IN    RELATION   TO   MEASURE.        PAGE. 

Of  Slowness  and  Rapidity  in  Oratorical  Delivery  — 
Of  Respiration  and  Silence  —  Inflections  — 
Rules  of  Inflection  —  Special  Inflections 25 

PART   SECOND. 

GESTURE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Of  Gesture  in  General 39 

CHAPTER  II. 
definition  and  division  of  gesture. 
Gesture  is  the  Direct  Agent  of  the  Heart  —  Gesture 
is  the  Interpreter  of  Speech  —  Gesture  is  an 
Elliptical  Language 43 

CHAPTER  III. 
Origin  and  Oratorical  Value  of  Gesture..       47 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    LAWS    OF    GESTURE. 

The  Priority  of  Gesture  to  Speech  —  Retroaction — 
Opposition  of  Agents  —  Number  of  Gestures 
—  Duration  of  Gesture — The  Rhythm  of  Gest- 
ure —  Importance  of  the  Laws  of  Gesture 51 

CHAPTER  V. 

OF    GESTURE    IN    PARTICULAR. 

The  Head  —  Movements  of  the  head :  The  Normal 
State,  The  Eccentric  State,  The  Concentric 
State  —  Of  the  Eyes  —  Of  the  Eyebrows 65 


CONTENTS.  V 

CHAPTER  VI. 

OF   THE    TORSO.  PAGE. 

The  Chest  — The  Shoulders 84 

CHAPTER  VII. 

OF   THE    LIMBS. 

The  Arms  —  Inflections  of  the  Fore  arm  —  Of  the 
Elbow  — Of  the  Wrist  — Of  the  Hand:  The 
Digital  Face,  The  Back  Face,  The  Palmar  Face 
—  Of  the  Fingers  —  Of  the  Legs 87 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF  THE  SEMEIOTIC,  OR  THE  REASON  OF  GESTURE. 

The  Types  which  Characterize  Gesture  —  Of  Gest- 
ure Relative  to  its  Modifying  Apparatus 107 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Of  Gesture  in  Relation  to  the  Figures  which 

Represent  it 1 14 


PART  THIRD. 

ARTICULATE    LANGUAGE. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Origin  and  Organic  Apparatus  of  Language,     123 

CHAPTER  II. 
Elements  of  Articulate  Language 125 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Oratorical  Value  of  Speech .-     127 


VI  CONTENTS. 

*  CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   VALUE    OF   WORDS    IN    PHRASES.  PAGE. 

The  Conjunction  —  The  Interjection  in  Relation  to 
its  Degree  of  Value  —  A  Resume  of  the  De- 
grees of  Value 130 

CHAPTER  V. 
French  and  Latin  Prosody 143 

CHAPTER  VI. 

method. 

Dictation  Exercises 146 

CHAPTER  VII. 

A   SERIES   OF    gestures    FOR    EXERCISES. 

Preliminary  Reflections  —  The  Series  of  Gestures 
Applied  to  the  Sentiments  Oftenest  Expressed 
by  the  Orator:  (i)  Interpellation  ;  (2)  Thanks, 
Affectionate  and  Ceremonious ;  (3)  Attraction ; 
(4)  Surprise  and  Assurance ;  (5)  Devotion  ;  (6) 
Interrogative  Surprise;  (7)  Reiterated  Inter- 
rogation; (8)  Anger;  (9)  Menace;  (10)  An 
Order   for    Leaving;    (11)    Reiteration;    (12) 

Fright  —  Important  Remarks 147 

Appendix 157 

Epilogue 163 

ARNAUD  ON  DELSARTE. 


PART  FOURTH. 
CHAPTER  I. 

the    BASES   OF   THE    SCIENCE 171 


CONTENTS.  vii 

CHAPTER  II.  ^ 

THE  METHOD.  PAGE. 

Ellipsis  —  Shades   and   Inflections  —  Vocal   Music 

—  Respiration  —  Position  of  the  Tone  —  Pre- 
paration of  the  Initial  Consonant  —  Exercises 
— Appoggiatura — Roulades  and  Martellato  — 
Pronunciation  —  E  mute  before  a  Consonant 

—  E  mute  before  a  Vowel i8o 

CHAPTER  III. 
Was  Delsarte  a  Philosopher  ? 197 

CHAPTER  IV. 
course  of  applied  ^esthetics. 
Meeting  of  the  Circle  of  Learned  Societies — Theory 

of  the  Degrees 200 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Recitation  of  Fables 206 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Law  of  Esthetics 208 

CHAPTER  VIL 

The  Elements  of  Art 228 

The  True 229 

The  Good 231 

The  Beautiful 235 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Application  of  the  Law  to  Various  Arts 243 

Dramatic,  Lyric  and  Oratorical  Art 244 

Application  of  the  Law  to  Literature 246 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Application  of  the  Law  to  Architecture 257 

Application  of  the  Law  to  Sculpture 258 

Application  of  the  Law  to  Painting 264 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Delsarte's  Beginnings 270 

CHAPTER  X. 
Delsarte's  Theatre  and   School 283 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Delsarte's  Family 295 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Delsarte's  Religion 303 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Delsarte's  Friends 319 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Delsarte's  Scholars 332 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Delsarte's  Musical  Compositions 341 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Delsarte's  Evening  Lectures 345 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Delsarte's   Inventions 357 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Delsarte   Before   the   Philotechnic   Associ- 
ation       361 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XIX.  PAGE. 

Delsarte's  Last  Years 372 

LITERARY  REMAINS  OF  FRANCOIS  DELSARTE. 


PART  FIFTH. 

Publisher's  Note 383 

Delsarte's    Last    Letter    to    the    King    of 

Hanover 384 

Episode  I 385 

Episode   II 401 

Episode   III 412 

Episode  IV 424 

Episode  V. 

Semeiotics  of  the  Shoulder 430 

Episode  VI 440 

Episode  VII 446 

What   I    Propose 448 

The  Beautiful 45 1 

Trinity 453 

Reversal  of  Processional  Relations 456 

Passion  OF  Signs,  Signs  of  Passion 459 

Definition   of   Form 463 

On  Distinction  and  Vulgarity  of   Motion..  464 

Gesture 465 

Definition  of  Gesture 466 

Attitudes   of  the  Head 469 

Attitudes  of  the   Hands 472 

Affirmation  of  the  Hand 473 

Table  of  the  Normal  Character  of  the  Nine 

Attitudes 474 


X  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Attitudes  OF  THE   Legs 477 

The  Holy  Trinity  Recovered  in  Sound 484 

Speech 486 

Breathing 488 

Vocal  Respiration 488 

IvOgical   Respiration 489 

Passional  Respiration 489 

Vocal  Organ 490 

Definition  of  the  Voice 491 

What  the  Register  is 492 

On  Shading '. 493 

Pathetic  Effects 494 

On  the  Tearing  of  the  Voice 495 

Number 496 

Medallion  of  Inflection 498 

The  Nature  of  the  Colors  of  Each  Circle 

IN  THE  Color  Charts 503 

The  Attributes  of  Reason 504 

Random  Notes 522 


PART  SIXTH. 

The  Lecture  and  Lessons  Given  by  Mme. 
Marie  Geraldy  (Delsarte's  Daughter)  in 
America 533 

PART  SEVENTH. 

Article  by  Alfred  Giraudet 569 

Article  by  Francis  A.  Durivage 574 

Article  by  Hector  Berlioz 596 


CHARTS,  DIAGRAMS,  FIGURES,  ETC. 


PAGE. 


Criterion  of  Oratory 5 

Criterion  of   the  Head 70 

Criterion   of  the  Eyes 74?  75 

Criterion  of  the  Lips 81 

Criterion  of  the  No::e 82 

Criterion  of  the   Face S^ 

Angles  of  the   Fore-arm 88 

Criterion  of  the  Hand 94 

Cube  for  the  Hand 95,  474 

Attitudes  of  the  Legs 101-106 

Criterion  of  the  Legs 106 

Zones  of  the  Head,  Face  and  Arm 109 

Criterion    of  Chorography 118 

Inflective  Medallion 119,  498,  502 

The   Relative    Degrees  of  Value   of  Words 

in  Phrases 133 

Criterion    of  Colors 157 

Charts  of  the  Trinity 455,  458 

Organic    Chart 480 

Charts  of  the  Hand 481 

Charts  of  the  Eye 481 

Charts  of  the  Torso 482 

Charts   of  the  Esthetic  Division 482 

Medallion   of    Inflection 119,  498,  502 

Chart  of  the    Angels 503 

Chart  of   Man 503 

Trueness  in  Singing  Illustrations 533-535 


PARTS  FIRST,  SECOND,  THIRD. 


DELAUMOSNE  ON  DELSARTE. 


THE  DELSARTE   SYSTEM. 

BY 

M.    L'ABBE   DELAUMOSNE, 

{Pupil of  Delsarte.) 

Translated  by  FRANCES   A.   SHAW. 


FRANgOIS  DELSARTE. 


I 

Frangois  Delsarte  was  born  November  ii,  1811,  at 
Solesme,  a  little  town  of  the  Department  of  the  North,  in 
Franco.  His  father,  who  was  a  renowned  physician  a  ad 
the  author  of  several  inventions,  might  have  secure  (  a 
fortune  for  his  family,  had  he  been  more  anxious  for  ^he 
morrow,  but  he  died  in  a  state  bordering  upon  poverty 

In  1822,  Francois  was  apprenticed  to  a  porcelain  pain  tet 
of  Paris,  but,  yielding  to  a  taste  and  aptitude  for  music,  in 
the  year  1825,  he  sought  and  obtained  admission  to  the 
Conservatory  as  a  pensioner.  Here  a  great  trial  awaited 
him — a  trial  which  wrecked  his  musical  career,  but  was  a 
decided  gain  for  his  genius.  He  had  been  placed  in  the 
vocaV  classes,  and  in  consequence  of  faults  in  method  and 
direction,  he  lost  his  voice.  He  was  inconsolable,  but, 
without  making  light  of  his  sorrow,  we  may  count  that 
loss  happy,  which  gave  the  world  its  first  law-giver  in  the 
art  of  oratory. 

The  young  student  refused  to  accept  this  calamity 
without  making  one  final  effort  to  retrieve  it.  He  pre- 
sented Himself  at  the  musical  contest  of  1829.  His  im- 
paired voice  rendered  success  impossible,  but  kind  words 
from  influential  friends  in  a  great  measure  compensated 
for  defeat. 

The  celebrated  Nourrit  said  to  him  :  "  I  have  given  you 


xviu  BIOGRAPHICAL. 

my  vote  for  the  first  prize,  and  my  children  shall  have  no 
singing-master  but  you." 

*'  Courage,"  said  Madame  Malibran,  pressing  his  hand. 
"  You  will  one  day  be  a  great  artist." 

But  Delsarte  knew  that  without  a  voice  he  must  re- 
nounce the  stage,  and  yielding  to  the  inevitable,  he  gave 
up  the  role  of  the  actor  to  assume  the  functions  of  the 
professor.  After  his  own  shipwreck  upon  a  bark  without 
pilot  or  compass,  he  summoned  up  courage  to  search  into 
the  laws  of  an  art  which  had  hitherto  subsisted  only  upon 
caprice  and  personal  inspiration. 

After  several  years  of  diligent  study,  he  discovered  and 
formulated  the  essential  laws  of  all  art ;  and,  thanks  to 
him,  aesthetic  science  in  our  day  has  the  same  precision 
as  mathematical  science.  He  had  numerous  pupils, 
many  of  whom  have  become  distinguished  in  various 
public  careers — in  the  pulpit,  at  the  bar,  on  the  stage,  and 
at  the  tribune. 

Madame  Sontag,  when  she  wished  to  interpret  Gluck's 
music,  chose  Delsarte  for  her  teacher.  Rachel  drew 
inspiration  from  his  counsels,  and  he  became  her  guardian 
of  the  sacred  fire.  He  was  urgently  solicited  to  appear 
with  her  at  the  Theatre-Fran9ais,  but  religious  scruples 
led  him  to  refuse  the  finest  offers. 

Madame  de  Giradin  (Delphine  Gay),  surnamed  the 
Muse  of  her  country,  welcomed  him  gladly  to  her  salon, 
then  the  rendezvous  of  the  world  of  art  and  letters,  and 
regretted  not  seeing  him  oftener.  He  was  more  than 
once  invited  to  the  literary  sessions  of  Juilly  college,  and, 
under  the  spell  of  his  diction,  the  pupils  became  animated 
by  a  new  ardor  for  study. 

Monseigneur  Sibour  had  great  esteem  and  affection  for 
Delsarte,  and  made  him  his  frequent  guest.     It  was  in 


BIOGRAPHICAL.  xix 

the  salon  of  this  art-loving  archbishop  that  Delsarte 
achieved  one  of  his  most  brilliant  triumphs.  All  the 
notable  men  of  science  had  gathered  there,  and  the  con- 
versation took  such  a  turn  that  Delsarte  found  opportu- 
nity to  give,  without  offence,  a  challenge  in  these  two 
lines  of  Racine : 

Vonde  approche,  se  brise,  et  ■vomit  h  nos  yeux, 
Parmi  des  flots  d^ecujne,  un  monstre  furieux, 
(**The  wave  draws  near,  it  breaks,  and  casts  before  our  eyes. 
Amid  the  floods  of  foam,  a  monster  grim  and  dire.") 

*'  Please  tell  me  the  most  emphatic  and  significant 
word  here,"  said  Delsarte. 

All  reflected,  sought  out  and  then  gave,  each  in  turn, 
his  chosen  word.  Every  word  was  selected  save  the  con- 
junction ef  (and).     No  one  thought  of  that. 

Delsarte  then  rose,  and  in  a  calm  and  modest,  but 
triumphant  tone,  said :  "  The  significant,  emphatic  word 
is  the  only  one  which  has  escaped  you.  It  is  the  con- 
junction and,  whose  elliptic  sense  leaves  us  in  appre- 
hension of  that  which  is  about  to  happen."  All  owned 
themselves  vanquished,  and  applauded  the  triumphant 
artist. 

Donoso  Cortes  made  Delsarte  a  chosen  confidant  of 
his  ideas.  One  day,  when  the  great  master  of  oratorical 
diction  had  recited  to  him  the  Dies  JrcB,  the  illustrious 
philosopher,  in  an  access  of  religious  emotion,  begged 
that  this  hymn  might  be  chanted  at  his  funeral.  Delsarte 
promised  it,  and  he  kept  his  word. 

When  invited  to  the  court  of  Louis  Philippe,  he  re- 
plied :  *'  I  am  not  a  court  bufibon."  When  a  generous 
compensation  was  hinted  at,  he  answered :  "  I  do  not  sell 
my  loves,"  Wlien  it  was  urged  that  the  occasion  was  a 
birth-day  fete  to  be  given  his   father  by  the    Duke    of 


XX  BIOGRAPHICAL. 

Orleans,  he  accepted  the  invitation  upon  three  con- 
ditions, thus  stated  by  himself:  "  ist.  I  shall  be  the  only- 
singer;  2d.  I  shall  have  no  accompaniment  but  the 
opera  chorus;  3d.  I  shall  receive  no  compensation.' 
The  conditions  were  assented  to,  and  Delsarte  surpassed 
himself.  The  king  paid  him  such  marked  attentions  that 
M.  Ingres  felt  constrained  to  say  :  "  One  might  declare  in 
truth  that  it  is  Delsarte  who  is  king  of  France." 

Delsarte's  reputation  had  passed  the  frontier.  The 
king  of  Hanover  committed  to  his  instruction  the  greatest 
musical  artiste  of  his  realm,  and  was  so  gratified  with  her 
improvement  that,  wishing  to  recompense  the  professor, 
he  sent  him  the  much  prized  Hanoverian  medal  of  arts 
and  sciences,  accompanied  by  a  letter  from  his  own  royal 
hand.  Delsarte  afterwards  received  from  the  same  king 
the  cross  of  a  Chevalier  of  the  Guelph  order. 

Delsarte's  auditors  were  not  the  only  ones  to  sound 
his  praises.  The  learned  reviews  extolled  his  merits. 
Such  writers  as  Laurentie,  Riancey,  Lamartine  and 
Theophile  Gautier  awarded  him  the  most  enthusiastic 
praise.     Posterity  will  perpetuate  his  fame. 

M.  Laurentie  writes :  "I  heard  Delsarte  recite  one 
evening  '•  IpJiigenicC s  Dreajn^  which  the  audience  had 
besought  of  him.  The  hall  remained  thrilled  and  breath- 
less under  this  impaired  and  yet  sovereign  voice.  All 
yielded  in  rapt  astonishment  to  the  spell.  There  was  no 
prestige,  no  theatrical  illusion.  Iphigenia  was  a  professor 
in  a  black  frock  coat ;  the  orchestra  was  a  piano,  giving 
forth  here  and  there  an  unexpected  modulation.  This 
was  his  whole  force ;  yet  the  hall  was  mute,  hearts  beat, 
tears  flowed  from  many  eyes,  and  when  the  recital  ended, 
enthusiastic  shouts  arose,  as  if  Iphigenia  in  person  had 
just  recounted  her  terrors. 


BIOGRAPHICAL.  XXI 

After  Delsarte  had  gathered  so  abundant  a  harvest 
of  laurels,  fate  decided  that  he  had  lived  long  enough. 
When  he  had  reached  his  sixtieth  year,  he  was  attacked 
by  hypertrophy  of  the  heart,  which  left  his  rich  organiza- 
tion in  ruins.  He  was  no  longer  the  artist  of  graceful, 
supple,  expressive  and  harmonious  movements ;  no  longer 
the  thinker  with  profound  and  luminous  ideas.  But  in  the 
midst  of  this  physical  and  intellectual  ruin,  the  Christian 
sentiment  retained  its  strong,  sweet  energy.  A  believer  in 
the  sacraments  which  he  had  received  in  days  of  health, 
he  asked  for  them  in  the  hour  of  danger,  and  many  times 
he  partook  of  that  sacrament  of  love  whose  virtue  he  had 
taught  so  well. 

Finally,  after  having  lingered  for  months  in  a  state 
that  was  neither  life  nor  death,  surrounded  by  his  pious 
wife,  and  his  weeping,  praying  children,  he  rendered  his 
soul  to  God  on  the  20th  of  July,  1871. 

Delsarte  never  could  be  persuaded  to  write  anything 
upon  themes  foreign  to  those  connected  with  his  musical 
and  vocal  work.  The  author  of  this  volume  desires  to 
save  from  oblivion  the  most  wonderful  conception  of  this 
superior  intellect:  his  Course  of  ^Esthetic  Oratory.  He 
dares  promise  to  be  a  faithful  interpreter.  If  excuse  be 
needed  for  undertaking  a  task  so  delicate,  he  repHes  that 
he  addresses  himself  to  a  class  of  readers  who  will  know 
how  to  appreciate  his  motives. 

The  merit  of  Delsarte,  the  honor  of  his  family,  the 
gratification  of  his  numerous  friends,  th^  interests  of 
science,  the  claims  of  friendship,  demand  that  this  light 
should  not  be  left  under  a  bushel,  but  placed  upon  a 
candlestick — this  light  which  has  shed  so  brilliant  a  glow, 
and  enriched  the  arts  with  a  new  splendor. 


PREFACE 


Orators,  you  are  called  to  the  ministry  of  speech.  You 
have  fixed  your  choice  upon  the  pulpit,  the  bar,  the  tri- 
bune or  the  stage.  You  will  become  one  day,  preacher, 
advocate,  lecturer  or  actor ;  in  short,  you  desire  to  em- 
brace the  orator's  career.  I  applaud  your  design.  You 
will  enter  upon  the  noblest  and  most  glorious  of  voca- 
tions. Eloquence  holds  the  first  rank  among  the  arts. 
While  we  award  praise  and  glory  to  great  musicians  and 
painters,  to  great  masters  of  sculpture  and  architecture, 
the  prize  of  honor  is  decreed  to  great  orators. 

Who  can  define  the  omnipotence  of  speech  ?  With  a 
few  brief  words  God  called  the  universe  from  nothing- 
ness ;  speech  falling  from  the  glowing  lips  of  the  Apostles, 
has  changed  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  current  of  opin- 
ion follows  the  prestige  of  speech,  and  to-day,  as  ever, 
eloquence  is  universal  queen.  We  need  feel  no  surprise 
that,  in  ancient  times,  the  multitude  uncovered  as  Cicero 
approached,  and  cried :  "Behold  the  orator  !  " 

Would  you  have  your  speech  bear  fruit  and  command 
honor  ?  Two  qualities  are  needful :  virtue  and  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  art  of  oratory.  Cicero  has  defined  the  ora- 
tor as  a  good  man  of  worth :    Vir  bonus ^  dicendi peritus. 

Then,  above  all,  the  orator  should  be  a  man  of  worth. 
Such  a  man  will  make  it  his  purpose  to  do  good ;  and  the 


XXIV  PREFACE. 

good  is  the  true  end  of  oratorical  art.  In  truth,  what  is 
art  ?  Art  is  the  expression  of  the  beautiful  in  ideas ;  it  is 
the  true.  Plato  says  the  beautiful  is  the  splendor  of  the 
true. 

What  is  art  ?  It  is  the  beautiful  in  action.  It  is  the 
good.  According  to  St.  Augustine,  the  beautiful  is  the 
lustre  of  the  good. 

Finally,  what  is  art  ?  It  is  the  beautiful  in  the  harmo- 
nies of  nature.  Galen,  when  he  had  finished  his  work 
on  the  structure  of  the  human  body,  exclaimed  :  "  Behold 
this  beautiful  hymn  to  the  glory  of  the  Creator ! " 

What,  then,  is  the  true,  the  beautiful,  the  good  ?  We 
might  answer,  it  is  God.  Then  virtue  and  the  glory  of 
God  should  be  the  one  end  of  the  orator,  of  the  good 
man.     A  true  artist  never  denies  God. 

Eloquence  is  a  means,  not  an  end.  We  must  not  love 
art  for  its  own  sake,  that  would  be  idolatry.  Art  gives 
wings  for  ascent  to  God.  One  need  not  pause  to  con- 
template his  wings. 

Art  is  an  instrument,  but  not  an  instrument  of  vanity 
or  complaisance.  Truth,  alas !  compels  us  to  admit  that 
eloquence  has  also  the  melancholy  power  of  corrupting 
souls.  Since  it  is  an  art,  it  is  also  a  power  which  must 
produce  its  effect  for  good  or  evil. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  fool  always  finds  a  greater 
fool  to  listen  to  him.  We  might  add  that  the  false,  the 
ugly  and  the  vicious  have  each  a  fibre  in  the  human  heart 
to  serve  their  purpose.  Then  let  the  true  orator,  the  good 
man,  armed  with  holy  eloquence,  seek  to  paralyze  the 
fatal  influence  of  those  orators  who  are  apostles  of  false- 
hood and  corruption. 

Poets  are  born,  orators  are  made:  nascuntur poetce^  fiunt 
oratores.     You  understand  why  I  have  engraved  this  max- 


PREFACE.  XXV 

im  on  the  title-page  of  my  work.  It  contains  its  raison 
d'etre,  its  justification.  Men  are  poets  at  birth,  but  elo- 
quence is  an  art  to  be  taught  and  learned.  All  art  pre- 
supposes rules,  procedures,  a  mechanism,  a  method  which 
must  be  known. 

We  bring  more  or  less  aptitude  to  the  study  of  an  art, 
but  every  profession  demands  a  period  more  or  less  pro- 
longed. We  must  not  count  upon  natural  advantages ; 
none  are  perfect  by  nature.  Humanity  is  crippled ;  beauty 
exists  only  in  fragments.  Perfect  beauty  is  nowhere  to 
be  found ;  the  artist  must  create  it  by  synthetic  work. 

You  have  a  fine  voice,  but  be  certain  it  has  its  defects. 
Your  articulation  is  vicious,  and  the  gestures  upon  which 
you  pride  yourself,  are,  in  most  cases,  unnatural.  Do  not 
rely  upon  the  fire  of  momentary  inspiration.  Nothing  is 
more  deceptive.  The  great  Garrick  said :  "  I  do  not  de- 
pend upon  that  inspiration  which  idle  mediocrity  awaits." 
Talma  declared  that  he  absolutely  calculated  all  effects, 
leaving  nothing  to  chance.  While  he  recited  the  scene 
between  Augustus  and  Cinna,  he  was  also  performing  an 
arithmetical  operation.     When  he  said : 

**  Take  a  chair,  Cinna,  and  in  everything 
Closely  observe  the  law  I  bid  you  heed  "— 

he  made  his  audience  shudder. 

The  orator  should  not  even  think  of  what  he  is  doing. 
The  thing  should  have  been  so  much  studied,  that  all 
"would  seem  to  flow  of  itself  from  the  fountain. 

But  where  find  this  square,  this  intellectual  compass, 
that  traces  for  us  with  mathematical  precision,  that  line  of 
gestures  beyond  which  the  orator  must  not  pass  ?  I  have 
sought  it  for  a  long  time,  but  in  vain.  Here  and  there 
one  meets  with  advice,  sometimes  good  but  very  often 


XXVI  PREFACE. 

bad.  For  example,  you  are  told  that  the  greater  the 
emotion,  the  stronger  should  be  the  voice.  Nothing  is 
more  false.  In  violent  emotion  the  heart  seems  to  fill  the 
larynx  and  the  voice  is  stifled.  In  all  such  counsels  it 
behooves  us  to  search  out  their  foundation,  the  reason 
that  is  in  them,  to  ask  if  there  is  a  type  in  nature  which 
serves  as  their  measure. 

We  hear  a  celebrated  orator.  We  seek  to  recall,  to 
imitate  his  inflections  and  gestures.  We  adopt  his  man- 
nerisms, and  that  is  all.  We  see  these  mannerisms  every- 
where, but  the  true  type  is  nowhere. 

After  much  unavailing  search,  I  at  last  had  the  good 
fortune  to  meet  a  genuine  master  of  eloquence.  After 
giving  much  study  to  the  masterpieces  of  painting  and 
sculpture,  after  observing  the  living  man  in  all  his  moods 
and  expressions,  he  has  known  how  to  sum  up  these 
details  and  reduce  them  to  laws.  This  great  artist,  this 
unrivaled  master,  was  the  pious,  the  amiable,  the  lamented 
Delsarte. 

There  certainly  was  pleasure  and  profit  in  hearing  this 
master  of  eloquence,  for  he  excelled  in  applying  his  prin- 
ciples to  himself.  Still  from  his  teachings,  even  from  the 
dead  letter  of  them,  breaks  forth  a  light  which  reveals 
horizons  hitherto  unknown. 

This  work  might  have  been  entitled :  Philosophy  of 
Oratorical  Art,  for  one  cannot  treat  of  eloquence  without 
entering  the  domain  of  the  highest  philosophy. 

What,  in  fact,  is  oratorical  art  ?  It  is  the  means  of 
expressing  the  phenomena  of  the  soul  by  the  play  of  the 
organs.  It  is  the  sum  total  of  rules  and  laws  resulting 
from  the  reciprocal  action  of  mind  and  body.  Thus  man 
must  be  considered  in  his  sensitive,  intellectual  and  moral 
state,  with  the  play  of  the  organs  corresponding  to  these 


PREFACE.  xxvii 

states.  Our  teaching  has,  then,  for  its  basis  the  science  of 
the  soul  ministered  to  by  the  organs.  This  is  why  we 
present  the  fixed,  invariable  rules  which  have  their  sanc- 
tion in  philosophy.  This  can  be  rendered  plain  by  an 
exposition  of  our  method. 

The  art  of  oratory,  we  repeat,  is  expressing  mental 
phenomena  by  the  play  of  the  physical  organs.  It  is  the 
translation,  the  plastic  form,  the  language  of  human 
nature.  But  man,  the  image  of  God,  presents  himself  to 
us  in  three  phases :  the  sensitive,  intellectual  and  moral. 
Man  feels,  thinks  and  loves.  He  is  en  rapport  with  the 
physical  world,  with  the  spiritual  world,  and  with  God. 
He  fulfils  his  course  by  the  light  of  the  senses,  the  reason, 
or  the  light  of  grace. 

We  call  life  the  sensitive  state,  mind  the  intellectual 
state,  and  soul  the  moral  state.  Neither  of  these  three 
terms  can  be  separated  from  the  two  others.  They  inter- 
penetrate, interlace,  correspond  with  and  embrace  each 
other.  Thus  mind  supposes  soul  and  life.  Soul  is  at  the 
same  time  mind  and  life.  In  fine,  life  is  inherent  in  mind 
and  soul.  Thus  these  three  primitive  moods  of  the  soul 
are  distinguished  by  nine  perfectly  adequate  terms.  The 
soul  being  the  form  of  the  body,  the  body  is  made  in  the 
image  of  the  soul.  The  human  body  contains  three 
organisms  to  translate  the  triple  form  of  the  soul. 

The  phonetic  machinery,  the  voice,  sound,  inflections, 
are  living  language.  The  child,  as  yet  devoid  of  intelli- 
gence and  sentiment,  conveys  his  emotions  through  cries 
and  moans. 

The  myologic  or  muscular  machinery,  or  gesture,  is  the 
language  of  sentiment  and  emotion.  When  the  child 
recognizes  its  mother,  it  begins  to  smile. 


xxviii  PREFACE. 

The  buccal  machinery,  or  articulate  speech,  is  the  lan- 
guage of  the  mind. 

Man,  neither  by  voice  nor  gesture,  can  express  two 
opposite  ideas  on  the  same  subject ;  this  necessarily 
involves  a  resort  to  speech.  Human  language  is  com- 
posed of  gesture,  speech  and  singing.  The  ancient  melo- 
drama owed  its  excellence  to  a  union  of  these  three  lan- 
guages. 

Each  of  these  organisms  takes  the  eccentric,  concen- 
tric, or  normal  form,  according  to  the  different  moods  of 
the  soul  which  it  is  called  to  translate. 

In  the  sensitive  state,  the  soul  lives  outside  itself ;  it  has 
relations  with  the  exterior  world.  In  the  intellectual  state, 
the  soul  turns  back  upon  itself,  and  the  organism  obeys 
this  movement.  Then  ensues  a  contraction  in  all  the 
agents  of  the  organism.  This  is  the  concentric  state.  In 
the  moral  or  mystic  state,  the  soul,  enraptured  with  God, 
enjoys  perfect  tranquiUty  and  blessedness.  All  breathes 
peace,  quietude,  serenity.  This  is  the  normal  state, — 
the  most  perfect,  elevated  and  sublime  expression  of 
which  the  organism  is  capable. 

Let  us  not  forget  that  by  reason  of  a  constant  transition, 
each  state  borrows  the  form  of  its  kindred  state.  Thus 
the  normal  state  can  take  the  concentric  and  eccentric 
form,  and  become  at  the  same  time,  doubly  normal ;  that 
is,  normal  to  the  highest  degree.  Since  each  state  can 
take  the  form  of  the  two  others,  the  result  is  nine  distinct 
gestures,  which  form  that  marvelous  accord  of  nine, 
which  we  call  the  universal  criterion. 

In  fine,  here  is  the  grand  law  of  organic  gymnastics : 

The  triple  movement,  the  triple  language  of  the  organs 
is  eccentric,  concentric,  or  normal,  according  as  it  is  the 
expression  of  life,  soul  or  spirit. 


PREFACE.  XXIX 

Under  the  influence,  the  occult  inspiration  of  this  law, 
the  great  masters  have  enriched  the  world  with  miracles 
of  art.  Aided  by  this  law  the  course  followed  in  this 
work,  may  be  easily  understood. 

Since  eloquence  is  composed  of  three  languages,  we 
divide  this  work  into  three  books  in  which  voice,  gesture 
and  speech  are  studied  by  turns.  Then,  applying  to  them 
the  great  law  of  art,  our  task  is  accomplished. 

The  advantages  of  this  method  are  easily  understood. 
There  is  given  a  type  of  expression  not  taken  from  the 
individual,  but  from  human  nature  synthetized.  Thus 
the  student  will  not  have  the  humiliation  of  being  the 
slave  or  ape  of  any  particular  master.  He  will  be  only 
himself.  Those  who  assimilate  their  imperfect  natures  to 
the  perfect  type  will  become  orators.     Fiunt  Oraiores. 

Success  having  attended  the  first  efforts,  let  the  would- 
be  orator  assimilate  these  rules,  and  his  power  will  be 
doubled,  aye  increased  a  hundredfold.  And  thus  having 
become  an  orator,  a  man  of  principle,  who  knows  how 
to  «peak  well,  he  will  aid  in  the  triumph  of  religion,  jus- 
tice and  virtue. 


PART  FIRST. 


VOICE 


PART    FIRST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PRELIMINARY    IDEAS  —  CRITERION    OF   THE   ORA- 
TORICAL ART. 

Let  US  note  an  incontestable  fact.  The  science 
of  the  Art  of  Oratory  has  not  yet  been  taught. 
Hitherto  genius  alone,  and  not  science,  has  made 
great  orators.  Horace,  Quintilian  and  Cicero  among 
the  ancients,  and  numerous  modern-  writers  have 
treated  of  oratory  as  an  art.  We  admire  their  writ- 
ings, but  this  is  not  science ;  here  we  seek  in  vain 
the  fundamental  laws  whence  their  teachings  pro- 
ceed. There  is  no  science  without  principles  which 
give  a  reason  for  its  facts.  Hence  to  teach  and  to 
learn  the  art  of  oratory,  it  is  necessary : 

1 .  To  understand  the  general  law  which  controls 
the  movements  of  the  organs ; 

2.  To  apply  this  general  law  to  the  movements 
of  each  particular  organ  ; 

3.  To  understand  the  meaning  of  the  form  of 
each  of  these  movements; 


4  PRELIMINARY  IDEAS. 

4.  To  adapt  this  meaning  to  each  of  the  different 
states  of  the  soul. 

The  fundamental  law,  whose  stamp  every  one  of 
these  organs  bears,  must  be  kept  carefully  in  mind. 
Here  is  the  formula : 

The  sensitive,  mental  and  moral  state  of  man  are 
rendered  by  the  eccentric,  concentric  or  normal 
form  of  the  organism.* 

Such  is  the  first  and  greatest  law.  There  is  a 
second  law,  which  proceeds  from  the  first  and  is 
similar  to  it : 

Each  form  of  the  organism  becomes  triple  by 
borrowing  the  form  of  the  two  others. 

It  is  in  the  application  of  these  two  laws  that  the 
entire  practice  of  the  art  of  oratory  consists.  Here, 
then,  is  a  science,  for  we  possess  a  criterion  with 
which  all  phenomena  must  agree,  and  which  none 
can  gainsay.  This  criterion,  composed  of  our 
double  formula,  we  represent  in  a  chart,  whose  ex- 
planation must  be  carefully  studied. 

The  three  primitive  forms  or  genera  which  affect 
the  organs  are  represented  by  the  three  transverse 
lines. 


*  The  sensitive  is  also  called  the  vital,  the  mental  the  reflective,  and  the  moral  the 
affective  state.  The  vital  sustains,  the  mental  guides,  the  moral  impels. — Trans- 
1.ATOR. 


CRITERION  OF  ORATORY. 


GENUS. 

SPECIES. 

1 

3 

2 

II.  Cone 

1     '-" 

(,    Eee.  Cone. 

3-n 

Norm.  Cone. 

2-II 

Cone.  Cone. 

III.  Norm.... 

r       i-III 
(.   Eee.  Norm. 

3-in 

Norm.  Norm. 

2-III 
Cone.  Norm. 

I.  Eee 

i     Eee.  Eee. 

3-1 

Norm.  Eee. 

2-1 

Cone.  Eee. 

The  subdivision  of  the  three  genera  into  nine  spe- 
cies is  noted  in  the  three  perpendicular  columns. 

Under  the  title  Genus  we  shall  use  the  Roman 
numerals  I,  III,  II. 

Under  the  title  Species  we  employ  the  Arabic 
figures  I,  3,  2. 

I  designates  the  eccentric  form,  II  the  concentric 
form.  III  the  normal  form. 

The  Arabic  figures  have  the  same  signification. 

The  normal  form,  either  in  the  genus  or  the  spe- 
cies, we  place  in  the  middle  column,  because  it 
serves  as  a  bond  of  union  betweeft  the  two  others, 
as  the  moral  state  is  the  connecting  link  between 
the  intellectual  and  vital  states. 


6  PRELIMINARY  IDEAS. 

Thus  the  first  law  relative  to  the  primitive  forms 
of  the  organs  is  applied  in  the  three  transverse  col- 
umns, and  the  second  law  relative  to  their  com- 
pound forms  is  reproduced  in  the  three  vertical 
columns. 

As  may  be  easily  proven,  the  eccentric  genus 
produces  three  species  of  eccentric  forms,  marked 
in  the  three  divisions  of  the  lower  transverse  column. 

Since  the  figure  i  represents  the  eccentric  form, 
I -I  will  designate  the  form  of  the  highest  degree  of 
eccentricity,  which  we  call  eccentro-eccentric. 

Since  the  figure  3  represents  the  normal  form, 
the  nunibers  3 -I  will  indicate  the  normo-eccentric 
form. 

Since  the  figure  2  designates  the  form  which 
translates  intelligence,  the  figures  2-I  indicate  the 
concentro-eccentric  form  as  a  species.  As  the  species 
proceeds  from  the  genus,  we  begin  by  naming  the 
species  in  order  to  bring  it  back  to  the  genus. 
Thus,  in  the  column  of  the  eccentric  genus  the 
figure  I  is  placed  after  the  numbers  3  and  2,  which 
belong  to  the  species.  We  must  apply  the  same 
analysis  to  the  transverse  column  of  the  normal 
genus,  as  also  to  that  of  the  concentric  genus. 

Following  a  diagonal  from  the  bottom  to  the  top 
and  from  left  to  right,  we  meet  the  most  expressive 
form  of  the  species,  whether  eccentric,  normal  or 
concentric,  marked  by  the  figures  i-I,  3-III,  2-II, 
and  by  the  abbreviations  Ecc.-ecc.  (Eccentro-eccen- 
tric),   Norm.-norm.    (Normo- normal),     Cone. -cone. 


CRITERION  OF  ORATORY.  7 

(Concentro- concentric).  It  is  curious  to  remark 
how  upon  this  diagonal  the  organic  manifestations 
corresponding  to  the  soul,  that  is  to  love,  are  found 
in  the  midst,  to. link  the  expressive  forms  of  life  and 
mind. 

This  chart  sums  up  all  the  essential  forms  which 
can  affect  the  organism.  This  is  a  universal  alge- 
braic formula,  by  which  we  can  solve  all  organic 
problems.  We  apply  it  to  the  hand,  to  the  shoul- 
der, to  the  eyes,  to  the  voice  —  in  a  word,  to  all  the 
agents  of  oratorical  language.  For  example,  it  suf- 
fices to  know  the  eccentro-eccentric  form  of  the  hand, 
of  the  eyes ;  and  we  reserve  it  for  the  appropriate 
occasion. 

All  the  figures  accompanying  the  text  of  this 
work  are  only  reproductions  of  this  chart  affected 
by  such  or  such  a  particular  organ.  A  knowledge 
of  this  criterion  gives  to  our  studies  not  only  sim- 
plicity, clearness  and  facility,  but  also  mathematical 
precision. 

In  proposing  the  accord  of  nine  formed  by  the 
figure  3  multiplied  into  itself,  it  must  be  understood 
that  we  give  the  most  elementary,  most  usual  and 
least  complicated  terms.  Through  natural  and  suc- 
cessive subdivisions  we  can  arrive  at  8i  terms. 
Thus  multiply  9  by  3 ;  the  number  27  gives  an 
accord  of  27  terms,  which  can  again  be  multiplied 
by  3  to  reach  81.  Or  rather  let  us  multiply  9  by  9, 
and  we  in  like  manner  obtain  81  terms,  which  be- 
come the  end  of  the  series.     This  is  the  alpha  and 


8  PRELIMINARY  IDEAS. 

omega  of  all  human  science.  Hue  usque  venieSy  et 
ibi  confringes  tumentes  fluctus  tuos.  ("Thus  far 
shalt  thou  come,  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves 
be  stayed.") 

It  is  well  to  remark  that  this  criterion  is  applied 
to  all  possible  phenomena,  both  in  the  arts  and 
sciences.  This  is  reason,  universal  synthesis.  All 
phenomena,  spiritual  as  well  as  material,  must  be 
considered  under  three  or  nine  aspects,  or  not  be 
understood.  Three  genera  and  nine  species  ;  three 
and  nine  in  everything  and  everywhere ;  three  and 
nine,  these  are  the  notes  echoed  by  all  beings. 
We  do  not  fear  to  affirm  that  this  criterion  is  divine, 
since  it  conforms  to  the  nature  of  beings.  Then, 
with  this  compass  in  hand,  let  us  explore  the  vast 
field  of  oratorical  art,  and  begin  with  th'"  voice. 

Note  to  the  Student.-:-Do  not  go  on  without  a  perfect  under- 
standing of  this  explanation  of  the  criierion-  as  well  as  the  exposition 
of  our  method  which  closes  the  pretace. 


CHAPTER  II. 
OF  THE  VOICE. 

The  whole  secret  of  captivating  an  audience  by 
the  charms  of  the  voice,  consists  in  a  practical 
knowledge  of  the  lavvs  of  sound,  inflection,  respira- 
tion and  silence.  The  voice  first  manifests  itself 
through  sound ;  inflection  is  an  intentional  modifi- 
cation of  sound  ;  respiration  and  silence  are  a  means 
of  falling  exactly  upon  the  suitable  tone  and  in- 
flection. 

Sound  being  the  first  language  of  man  in  the 
cradle,  the  least  we  can  demand  of  the  orator  is, 
that  he  speak  intelligently  a  language  whose  author 
is  instinct  The  orator  must  then  listen  to  his  own 
voice  in  order  to  understand  it,  to  estimate  its  value, 
to  cultivate  it  by  correcting  its  faults,  to  guide  it  — 
in  a  word,  to  dispose  of  it  at  will,  according  to  the 
inclination  of  the  moment.  We  begin  the  study  of 
the  voice  with  Sound ;  and  as  sound  may  be  viewed 
under  several  aspects,  we  divide  this  heading  into  as 
many  sections. 

Compass  of  the  Voice  —  Organic  Apparatus  of  the 
Voice. 
This  apparatus  is  composed  of  the  larynx,  the 
mouth  and  the  lungs.     Each  of  these  agents  derives 


id  VOICE. 

its  value  from  mutual  action  with  the  others.  The 
larynx  of  itself  is  nothing,  and  can  be  considered 
only  through  its  participation  in  the  simultaneous 
action  of  the  mouth  and  lungs. 

Sound,  then,  is  formed  by  a  triple  agent — pro- 
jective, vibrative  and  reflective. 

The  lungs  are  the  soliciting  agent,  the  larynx  is 
the  vibrative  agent,  the  mouth  is  the  reflective 
agent.  These  must  act  in  unison,  or  there  is  no 
result.  The  larynx  might  be  called  the  mouth  of 
the  instrument,  the  inside  of  the  mouth  the  pavilion, 
the  lungs  the  artist.  In  a  violin,  the  larynx  would 
be  the  string,  the  lungs  the  bow,  the  mouth  the  in- 
strument itself. 

The  triple  action  of  these  agents  produces  pho- 
nation.  They  engender  sounds  and  inflections. 
Sound  is  the  revelation  of  the  sensitive  life  to  the 
minutest  degree;  inflections  are  the  revelation  of 
the  same  life  in  a  higher  degree,  and  this  is  why 
they  are  the  foundation  and  the  cha^m  of  music. 

Such  is  the  wonderful  organism  of  the  human 
voice,  such  the  powerful  instrument  Providence  has 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  orator.  But  what 
avails  the  possession  of  an  instrument  if  one  does 
not  know  how  to  use  it,  or  how  to  tune  it?  The 
orator,  ignorant  of  the  laws  of  sound  and  inflection, 
resembles  the  debutant  who  places  the  trumpet  to 
his  lips  for  the  first  time.  We  know  the  ear-tortur- 
ing tones  he  evolves. 

The  ear  is  the  most  delicate,  the  most  exacting 


THE  VOICE  IN  RELATION  TO   COMPASS.         If 

of  all  our  senses.  The  eye  is  far  more  tolerant. 
The  eye  resigns  itself  to  behold  a  bad  gesture,  but 
the  ear  does  not  forgive  a  false  note  or  a  false  in- 
flection. It  is  through  the  voice  we  please  an 
audience.  If  we  have  the  ear  of  an  auditor,  we 
easily  win  his  mind  and  heart.  The  voice  is  a  mys- 
terious hand  which  touches,  envelops  and  caresses 
the  heart. 

Of  the  Voice  in  Relation  to  Compass. 

All  voices  do  not  have  the  same  compass,  or  the 
same  range.  By  range  we  mean  the  number  of 
tones  the  voice  can  produce  below  and  above  a 
given  note  on  the  staff,  say  A,  second  space  of  the 
treble  clef 

There  are  four  distinct  kinds  of  voices :  Soprano, 
alto,  tenor  and  bass.  There  are  also  intermediate 
voices,  possessing  the  peculiar  quality  of  the  kind 
to  which  it  belongs,  for  example :  Mezzo-soprano, 
with  the  qua^jty  of  the  soprano  and  only  differing 
from  the  soprano  in  range,  the  range  of  this  voice 
being  lower  than  the  soprano  and  a  little  higher 
than  the  alto.     Then  comes  the  alto  or  contralto. 

In  the  male  voice  we  have  the  tenor  robusto,  a 
little  lower  than  the  pure  tenor  and  more  powerful ; 
next  the  baritone,  a  voice  between  the  tenor  and 
bass,  but  possessing  very  much  the  quality  of  the 
bass. 

The  tones  in  the  range  of  every  voice  can  be 
divided  into  three  parts  —  the  lower,  medium  and 


12  VOICE. 

higher.  Thus  we  would  say  of  a  performer,  he  or 
she  used  the  lower  or  higher  tones,  or  whatever  the 
case  may  be.     This  applies  to  every  kind  of  voice. 

The  soprano  voice  ranges  generally  from  the 
middle  C,  first  added  line  below  on  the  treble  clef, 
upwards  to  A,  first  added  line  above  the  staff. 
Contralto  voices  range  generally  from  G,  below 
middle  C  in  the  treble  clef,  up  to  F,  the  upper  hne 
of  the  clef. 

The  tenor  voice  ranges  from  C,  second  space  of 
the  F  clef,  to  D,  second  space  in  the  treble  clef. 

The  bass  voice  ranges  from  lower  F,  first  space 
below  of  the  F  or  bass  clef,  to  D,  second  space 
above  of  this  clef.* 

The  first  perception  of  the  human  voice  impera- 
tively demands,  i.  That  the  voice  be  tried  and  its 
compass  measured  in  order  to  ascertain  to  what 
species  it  belongs.  Its  name  must  be  known  with 
absolute  certainty.  It  would  be  shameful  in  a  mu- 
sician not  to  know  the  name  of  the  instrument  he 
uses.  2.  That  the  ear  be  trained  in  order  to  distin- 
guish the  pitch  upon  which  one  speaks. 

We  should  be  able  to  name  a  sound  and  to  sound 
a  name.  The  Orientals  could  sing  eight  degrees  of 
tone  between  C  and  D.  There  may  be  a  whole  scale, 
a  whole  air  between  these  two  tones.     It  would  be 


♦  The  registers  here  given  undoubtedly  refer  to  the  singing  voice,  as  the  range  of 
notes  in  the  speaking  voice  is  very  much  more  limited.  Very  frequently  voices  are 
found  whose  range  in  singing  is  very  much  greater  than  that  which  the  author  has 
given  here ;  however,  on  the  other  hand,  many  are  found  with  even  a  more  limited 
range. — Translator. 


THE  VOICE  IN  RELATION  TO  VOWELS.  1 3 

unpardonable  not  to  know  how  to  distinguish  or  at 
least  to  sound  a  semitoneo 

There  is  a  fact  proved  by  experience,  which  must 
not  be  forgotten.  The  high  voice,  with  elevated 
brows,  serves  to  express  intensity  of  passion,  as  well 
as  small,  trivial  and  also  pleasant  things. 

The  deep  voice,  with  the  eyes  open,  expresses 
worthy  things. 

The  deep  voice,  with  the  eyes  closed,  expresses 
odious  things. 

The  Voice  in  Relation  to  Vowels, 
As  already  stated,  the  vocal  apparatus  is  com- 
posed of  the  lungs,  the  larynx  and  the  mouth ;  but 
its  accessories  are  the  teeth,  the  lips,  the  palate  and 
the  uvula.  The  tip  and  root  of  the  tongue,  the 
arch  of  the  palate  and  the  nasal  cavities  have  also 
their  share  in  perfecting  the  acoustic  apparatus. 

In  classifying  the  different  varieties  of  voice,  we 
have  considered  them  only  in  their  rudimentary 
state.  Ability  to  name  and  distinguish  the  several 
tones  of  voice  is  the  starting  point.  We  have  an 
image  more  or  less  perfect,  leaving  the  mould ;  we 
have  a  canvas  containing  the  design,  but  not  the 
embroidery — the  mere  outline  of  an  instrument,  a 
body  without  a  soul.  The  voice  being  the  language 
of  the  sensitive  life,  the  passional  state  must  pass 
entirely  into  the  voice. 

We  must  know  then  how  to  give  it  an  expression, 
a  color  answering  to  the  sentiment  it  conveys.     But 


14  VOICE. 

this  expressive  form  of  the  voice  depends  upon  the 
sound  of  its  vowels. 

There  is  a  mother  vowel,  a  generative  tone.  It  is 
a  (Italian  a).  In  articulating  a  the  mouth  opens 
wide,  giving  a  sound  similar  to  a  in  arm. 

The  primitive  a  takes  three  forms.  The  unac- 
cented, Italian  a  represents  the  normal  state ;  a  with 
the  acute  accent  ( ' )  represents  the  eccentric  state ; 
a  with  the  grave  accent  (^)  represents  the  concen- 
tric state. 

These  three  <2*s  derived  from  primitive  a  become 
each  in  turn  the  progenitor  oT  a  family  with  triple 
sounds,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  following  genealogi- 
cal tree : 


A 

A 

A 

A 

€ 

o 

e 

h 

au 

eu 

i 

ou 

u 

Eccentric. 

Normal. 

Concentric. 

This  is  the  only  simple  sound,  but  four  other 
sounds  are  derived  from  it.  The  three  ^'s  articu- 
lated by  closing  the  uvula,  give  the  rasal  an.  Each 
family  also  gives  its  special  nasal  sound  :  hi  for  the 
eccentric  voice,  on  for  the  normal  state,  un  for  the 
concentric.  All  other  sounds  are  derived  from 
combinations  of  these.  The  mouth  cannot  possibly 
produce  more  than  three  families  of  sounds,  and  in 
each  family  it  ia  ^  united  with  the  others  that  forms 
the  trinity, 


THE  VOICE   IN   RELATION  TO   VOWELS.  1 5 

The  variety  of  sounds  in  these  three  famihes  of 
vowels  arises  from  the  difference  of  the  opening  of 
the  mouth  and  lips  in  articulating  them.  These 
different  modes  of  articulation  may  be  rendered 
more  intelligible  by  the  subjoined  diagrams : 

a  is  pronounced  with  the  mouth  very  wide  open, 
the  uvula  raised  and  the  tongue  much  lowered. 

O  O 

^,  e,  i  and  in  are  articulated  with  the  lips 
open  and  the  back  part  of  the  mouth  gradually 
closed. 


Uy  auy  ou  and  on  are  articulated  with  the  back  of 
the  mouth  open  and  the  lips  gradually  closed. 


e,  eUy  ti  and  tm  are  articulated  with  the  back  of 
the  mouth  and  the  lips  uniformly  closed. 


The  voice  takes  different  names,  according  to 
the  different  sounds  in  each  family  of  vowels :  the 
chest-voice,  the  medium  voice  and  the  head- 
voice. 

These  names  imply  no  change  in  the  sort  of 
voice,  but  a  change  in  the  fanner  of  emission. 
The  head,  medium  or  ^hest-voiee,  ir\dica^tcs  only 


1 6  VOICE. 

variety  in  the  emission  of  vowels,  and  may  be 
applied  to  the  high  as  well  as  the  deep  and  medium 
voice.  Thus  the  deep  voice  may  produce  sounds 
in  the  head-voice,  as  well  as  in  the  medium  and 
chest  voices. 

The  head-voice  is  produced  by  lowering  the  lar- 
ynx, and  at  the  same  time  raising  the  uvula.  In 
swallowing,  the  larynx  rises  by  the  elevation  of  the 
uvula,  ^without  which  elevation  there  can  be  no 
head-tones. 

Practical  Conclusions, 

I .  It  is  highly  important  to  know  how  to  assume 
either  of  these  voices  at  will.  The  chest-voice  is 
the  expression  of  the  sensitive  or  vital  life,  and  is  the 
interpreter  of  all  physical  emotions.  The  medium 
voice  expresses  sentiment  and  the  moral  emotions. 
The  head-voice  interprets  everything  pertaining  to 
scientific  or  mental  phenomena.  By  observing  the 
laugh  in  the  vital,  moral  and  intellectual  states,  we 
shall  see  that  the  voice  takes  the  sound  of  the 
vowel  corresponding  to  each  state. 

We  understand  the  laugh  of  an  individual;  if 
upon  the  i  (e  long),  he  has  made  a  sorry  jest;  if 
upon  e  (^  in  fate),  he  has  nothing  in  his  heart  and 
most  likely  nothing  in  his  head ;  if  upon  a  {a 
short),  the  laugh  is  forced.  O,  a,  {a  long)  and  oti 
are  the  only  normal  expressions.  Thus  every  one 
is  measured,  numbered,  weighed.  There  is  reason 
in  everything,  even  when   unknown   to   man.     In 


PRACTICAL   CONCLUSIONS.  1/ 

physical  pain  or  joy,  the  laugh  or  groan  employs 
the  vowels  ^,  e,  i* 

2.  The  chest-voice  should  be  little  used,  as  it  is  a 
bestial  and  very  fatiguing  voice. 

3.  The  head-voice  or  the  medium  voice  is  pref- 
erable, it  being  more  noble  and  more  ample,  and 
not  fatiguing.  In  these  voices  there  is  far  less  dan- 
ger of  hoarseness.  The  head  and  medium  voices 
proceed  more  from  the  mouth,  while  the  chest-voice 
has  its  vibrating  point  in  the  larynx. 

4.  The  articulation  of  the  three  syllables,  la,  mo 
and  po,  is  a  very  useful  exercise  in  habituating  one 
to  the  medium  voice.  Besides  reproducing  the 
tone  of  this  voice,  these  are  the  musical  consonants 
par  excellence.  They  give  charm  and  development 
to  the  voice.  We  can  repeat  these  tones  without 
fatiguing  the  vocal  chords,  since  they  are  produced 
by  the  articulative  apparatus. 

5.  It  is  well  to  remark  that  the  chest,  medium 


*  The  sounds  here  given  are  those  of  the  French  vowels. 

Ti  has  two  sounds,  heard  in  mat  and  far. 

E  with  the  acute  accent  (e)  is  like  a  in  fate. 

E  with  the  grave  accent  (^)  is  like  e  m  there. 

I  has  two  sounds  —  the  first  like  ee  in  reed,  the  second  like  ee  vafeel. 

O  has  a  sound  between  that  of  o  in  rob  and  robe. 

O  with  the  circumflex  (6)  is  sounded  like  o  in  no. 

The  exact  sound  of  u  is  not  found  in  English. 

Ou  is  sounded  like  '00  in  cool. 

The  nasal  sound  an  is  pronounced  nearly  like  an  in  want. 

The  nasal  in  is  pronounced  somewhat  like  an  in  crank. 

The  nasal  on  is  pronounced  nearly  like  on  in  song. 

The  nasal  un  is  pronounced  nearly  like  un  in  wrung. 

Consult  some  work  on  French  pronunciation,  or,  as  is  far  preferable,  feam  thest 
sounds  from  the  living  voice  of  the  ;eacher — Translator. 
7. 


1 8  VOICE. 

and  head  voices  are  synonymous  with  the  eccen- 
tric, normal  or  concentric  voice. 

6.  It  is  only  a  hap-hazard  sort  of  orator  who 
does  not  know  how  to  attain,  at  the  outset,  what  is 
called  the  white  voice,  to  be  colored  afterward  at 
will.  The  voice  should  resemble  the  painter's  pal- 
let, where  all  the  colors  are  arranged  in  an  orderly 
manner,  according  to  the  affinities  of  each.  A 
colorless  tint  may  be  attained  in  the  same  way  as  a 
pure  tint.  It  may  be  well  to  remark  here,  although 
by  anticipation,  that  the  expressions  of  the  hand 
and  brow  belong  to  the  voice.  The  coloring  of  the 
larynx  corresponds  to  the  movements  of  the  hand 
or  brows. 

Sound  is  painting,  or  it  is  nothing.  It  should  be 
in  affinity  with  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  VOICE  IN  RELATION  TO  INTENSITY  OF  SOUND. 

What  is  Understood  by  Intensity  of  Sound, 
The  voice  has  three  dimensions  —  height,  depth 
and  breadth ;   in  other  terms,  diapason,  intensity  and 
duration;    or  in  yet  other  words,  tonahty,  timbre 
and  succession. 

Intensity  may  be  appHed  alike  to  the  voice  and 
to  sound.  The  voice  is  strong  or  weak,  according 
to  the  mechanism  of  the  acoustic  apparatus.  The 
strength  or  weakness  of  sound  depends  upon  the 
speaker,  who  from  the  same  apparatus  evolves 
tones  more  or  less  strong.  It  is  the  forte,  piajio 
and  pia?tissimo  in  music.  Thus  a  loud  voice  can 
render  weak  tones,  and  a  weak  voice  loud  tones. 
Hence  the  tones  of  both  are  capable  of  increase  or 
diminution. 

Means  of  Augmenting  the  Timbre  of  the  Voice. 

I.  A  stronger  voice  may  be  obtained  by  taking 
position  not  upon  the  heel  or  flat  of  the  foot,  but 
upon  the  ball  near  the  toes  —  that  attitude  which 
further  on  we  shall  designate  as  the  third.  The 
chest  is  eccentric ;  that  is,  convex  and  dilated.  In 
this  position  all  the  muscles  are  tense  and  resemble 
the  chords  of  an  instrument  whose  resonance  is  pro- 
portional to  their  tension. 


20  VOICE. 

2.  There  are  three  modes  of  developing  the  voice. 
A  voice  may  be  manufactured.  A  natural  voice  is 
almost  always  more  or  less  changed  by  a  thousand 
deleterious  influences. 

1.  In  volume,  by  lowering  the  larynx,  elevating 
the  soft-palate  and  hollowing  the  tongue. 

2.  In  intensity. — A  loud  voice  may  be  hollow. 
It  must  be  rendered  deep,  forcible  and  brilliant  by 
these  three  methods :  profound  inspiration,  explo- 
sion and  expulsion.  The  intensity  of  an  effect  may 
depend  upon  expulsion  or  an  elastic  movement. 
Tenuity  is  elasticity.  It  is  the  rarest  and  yet  the 
most  essential  quality  of  diction. 

3.  In  compass. — ^There  are  three  ways  of  increas- 
ing the  compass  of  the  voice : 

1 .  By  the  determination  of  its  pitch ; 

2.  By  practicing  the  vocal  scale  ; 

3.  By  the  fusion  of  the  registers  upon  the  key- 
note. 

The  first  of  these  methods  is  most  effective.  The 
second  consists  in  exercising  upon  those  notes 
which  are  near  the  key-note.  Upon  this  exercise 
depends  in  great  measure  the  homogeneity  of  the 
voice.  Taking  la  for  the  diapason,  the  voice  which 
extends  from  the  lowest  notes  to  upper  re  is  the 
chest-voice,  since  it  suffers  no  acoustic  modification. 
From  mi  to  la  the  voice  is  modified ;  it  is  the  me- 
dium voice,  or  the  second  register,  which  gives  full 
and  supple  tones.  The  head  or  throat-voice,  or  the 
third  register,  extends  from  si  to  the  highest  and 


INTENSITY   OF   SOUND.  21 

sharpest  notes.  Its  tones  are  weak,  and  should  be 
avoi'!ed  as  much  as  possible.  There  are  then  only 
four  good  notes  —  those  from  mi  to  la,  upon  which 
the  voice  should  be  exercised.  By  uniting  the  reg- 
isters, an  artificial,  homogeneous  voice  may  be  cre- 
ated, whose  tones  are  produced  without  compression 
and  without  difficulty.  This  being  done,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  every  note  of  the  voice  must  successively 
indicate  the  three  registers  —  that  is,  it  must  be 
rendered  in  the  chest,  medium  and  head  voices. 

There  is  also  a  method  of  diminishing  the  voice. 
As  the  tone  is  in  proportion  to  the  volume  of  air  in 
the  lungs,  it  may  be  weakened  by  contracting  the 
epiglottis  or  by  suppressing  the  respiration. 

Rules  for  Ijttensity  of  Sotmd. 

I.  The  strength  of  the  voice  is  in  an  inverse  ratio 
to  the  respiration.  The  more  we  are  moved,  the  less 
loudly  we  speak ;  the  less  the  emotion,  the  stronger 
the  voice.  In  emotion,  the  heart  seems  to  mount 
to  the  larynx,  and  the  voice  is  stifled.  A  soft  tone 
should  always  be  an  affecting  tone,  and  consist  only 
of  a  breath.  Force  is  always  opposed  to  power.  It 
is  an  error  to  suppose  that  the  voice  must  be  in- 
creased as  the  heart  is  laid  bare.  The  lowest  tones 
are  the  best  understood.  If  we  would  make  a  low 
-^^AcQ  audible,  let  us  speak  as  softly  as  we  can. 

Go  to  the  sea-shore  when  the  tempest  rages. 
The  roar  of  the  waves  as  they  break  against  the 
vessel's   side,   the   muttering  thunders,   the    furious 


22  VOICE. 

wind-gusts  render  the  strongest  voice  impotent. 
Go  upon  a  battle-field  when  drums  beat  and  trum- 
pets sound.  In  the  midst  of  this  uproar,  these  dis- 
cordant cries,  this  tumult  of  opposing  armies,  the 
leader's  commands,  though  uttered  in  the  loudest 
tones,  can  scarce  be  heard ;  but  a  low  whistle  will 
be  distinctly  audible.  The  voice  is  intense  in  seren- 
ity and  calm,  but  in  passion  it  is  weak. 

Let  those  who  would  bring  forward  subtle  argu- 
ments against  this  law,  remember  that  logic  is  often 
in  default  when  applied  to  artistic  facts. 

A  concert  is  given  in  a  contracted  space,  with  an 
orchestra  and  a  double-bass.  The  double-bass  is 
very  weak.  Logic  would  suggest  two  double-basses 
in  order  to  produce  a  stronger  tone.  Quite  the 
contrary.  Two  double-basses  give  only  a  semitone, 
which  half  a  double-bass  renders  of  itself.  So 
much  for  logic  in  this  case. 

The  greatest  joy  is  in  sorrow,  for  here  there  is 
the  greatest  love.  Other  joys  are  only  on  the  sur- 
face. We  suffer  and  we  weep  because  we  love. 
Of  what  avail  are  tears?  The  essential  thing  is 
to  love.  Tears  are  the  accessories ;  they  will  come 
in  time,  they  need  not  be  sought.  Nothing  so 
wearies  and  disgusts  us,  as  the  lachrymose  tone.  A 
man  who  amounts  to  anything  is  never  a  whimperer. 

Take  two  instruments  in  discord  and  remote  from 
each  other.  Logic  forbids  their  approach  lest  their 
tones  become  more  disagreeable.  The  reverse  is 
true.     In  bringing  them   together,  the   lowest   be- 


INTENSITY  OF  SOUND.  2$ 

comes  higher  and  the  highest  lower,  and  there  is  an 
accord. 

Let  us  suppose  a  hall  with  tapestries,  a  church 
draped  in  black.  Logic  says,  **  sing  more  loudly." 
But  this  must  be  guarded  against  lest  the  voice  be- 
come lost  in  the  draperies.  The  voice  should  scarce 
reach  these  too  heavy  or  too  sonorous  partitions, 
but  leaving  the  lips  softly,  it  should  pulsate  through 
the  audience,  and  go  no  farther. 

An  audience  is  asleep.  Logic  demands  more 
warmth,  more  fire.  Not  at  all.  Keep  silent  and 
the  sleepers  will  awaken. 

2.  Sound,  notwithstanding  its  many  shades,  should 
be  homogeneous ;  that  is,  as  full  at  the  end  as  at  the 
beginning.  The  mucous  membrane,  the  lungs  and 
the  expiratory  muscles  have  sole  charge  of  its  trans- 
mission. The  vocal  tube  must  not  vary  any  more 
for  the  loud  tone  than  for  the  low  tone.  The 
opening  must  be  the  same.  The  low  tone  must 
have  the  power  of  the  loud  tone,  since  it  is  to  be 
equally  understood.  The  acoustic  organs  should 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  transmission  of  sound. 
They  must  be  inert  so  that  the  tone  may  be  homo- 
geneous. The  speaker  or  singer  should  know  how 
to  diminish  the  tone  without  the  contraction  of  the 
back  part  of  the  mouth. 

To  be  homogeneous  the  voice  must  be  ample. 
To  render  it  ample,  take  high  rather  than  low  notes. 
The  dipthong  eu  (like  ti  in  muff),  and  the  vowels  u 
and  0  give  amplitude  to  sound.     On  the  contrary, 


24  VOICE, 

the  tone  is  meagre  in  articulating  the  vowels  ^,  i  and 
d.  To  render  the  voice  ample,  we  open  the  throat 
and  roll  forth  the  sound.  The  more  the  sound  is 
circumvolutedy  the  more  ample  it  is.  To  render  the 
voice  resonant,  we  draw  the  tongue  from  the  teeth 
and  give  it  a  hollow  form ;  then  we  lower  the  lar- 
ynx, and  in  this  way  imitate  the  French  horn. 

3.  The  voice  should  always  be  sympathetic,  kind- 
ly, calm,  and  noble,  even  when  the  most  repulsive 
things  are  expressed.  A  tearful  voice  is  a  grave 
defect,  and  must  be  avoided.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  the  tremulous  voice  of  the  aged,  who  em- 
phasize and  prolong  their  syllables.  Tears  are  out 
of  place  in  great  situations ;  we  should  weep  only 
at  home.  To  weep  is  a  sure  way  of  making  people 
laugh. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  VOICE  IN   RELATION  TO   MEASURE. 

Of  Slowness  and  Rapidity  in  Oratorical  Delivery, 

The  third  and  last  relation  in  which  we  shall 
study  voice,  is  its  breadth,  that  is,  the  measure  or 
rhythm  of  its  tones. 

The  object  of  measure  in  oratorical  diction  is  to 
regulate  the  interval  of  sounds.  But  the  length  of 
the  interval  between  one  sound  and  another  is  sub- 
ject to  the  laws  of  slowness  and  rapidity,  respira- 
tion, silence  and  inflection. 

Let  us  first  consider  slowness  and  rapidity,  and 
the  rules  which  govern  them. 

I.  A  hasty  delivery  is  by  no  means  a  proof  of 
animation,  warmth,  fire,  passion  or  emotion  in  the 
orator;  hence  in  delivery,  as  in  tone,  haste  is  in  an 
inverse  ratio  to  emotion.  We  do  not  glide  lightly 
over  a  beloved  subject;  a  prolongation  of  tones  is 
the  complaisance  of  love.  Precipitation  awakens 
suspicions  of  heartlessness ;  it  also  injures  the  effect 
of  the  discourse.  A  teacher  with  too  much  facility 
or  volubility  puts  his  pupils  to  sleep,  because  he 
leaves  them  nothing  to  do,  and  they  do  not  under- 
stand his  meaning.  But  let  the  teacher  choose  his 
words  carefully,  and  every  pupil  will  want  to  suggest 
some  idea ;  all  will  work.     In  applauding  an  orator 


26  VOICE. 

we  usually  applaud  ourselves.  He  says  what  we 
were  just  ready  to  say ;  we  seem  to  have  suggested 
the  idea.  It  is  superfluous  to  remark  that  slowness 
without  gesture,  and  especially  without  facial  ex- 
pression, would  be  intolerable.  A  tone  must  always 
be  reproduced  with  an  expression  of  the  face. 

2.  The  voice  must  not  be  jerky.  Here  we  must 
keep  jealous  watch  over  ourselves.  The  entire  in- 
terest of  diction  arises  from  a  fusion  of  tones.  The 
tones  of  the  voice  are  sentient  beings,  who  love, 
hold  converse,  follow  each  other  and  blend  in  a 
harmonious  union. 

3.  It  is  never  necessary  to  dwell  upon  the  sound 
we  have  just  left;  this  would  be  to  fall  into  that 
jerky  tone  we  wish  to  avoid. 

Of  Respiration  and  Silence. 

We  place  respiration  and  silence  under  the  same 
head  because  of  their  affinity,  for  respiration  may 
often  be  accounted  silence. 

Of  silence. —  Silence  is  the  father  of  speech,  and 
must  justify  it.  Every  word  which  does  not  pro- 
ceed from  silence  and  find  its  vindication  in  silence, 
is  a  spurious  word  without  claim  or  title  to  our 
regard.  Origin  is  the  stamp,  in  virtue  of  which  we 
recognize  the  intrinsic  value  of  things.  Let  us,  then, 
seek  in  silence  the  sufficient  reason  of  speech,  and 
remember  that  the  more  enlightened  the  mind  is, 
the  more  concis^  is  the  speech  that  proceeds  from 
it.     Let  us  assume,  then,  that  this  conciseness  keeps 


OF  RelSPIRATION  AND  SILENCE*  2^ 

pace  with  the  elevation  of  the  mind,  and  that  when 
the  mind  arrives  at  the  perception  of  the  true  Hght, 
finding  no  words  that  can  portray  the  glories  open 
to  its  view,  it  keeps  silent  and  admires.  It  is 
through  silence  that  the  mind  rises  to  perfection,  for 
silence  is  the  speech  of  God. 

Apart  from  this  consideration,  silence  recom- 
mends itself  as  a  powerful  agent  in  oratorical  effects. 
By  silence  the  orator  arouses  the  attention  of  his 
audience,  and  often  deeply  moves  their  hearts. 
When  Peter  Chrysologue,  in  his  famous  homily 
upon  the  gospel  miracle  of  the  healing  of  the  issue 
of  blood,  overcome  by  emotion,  paused  suddenly 
and  remained  silent,  all  present  immediately  burst 
into  sobs. 

Furthermore,  silence  gives  the  orator  time  and 
liberty  to  judge  of  his  position.  An  orator  should 
never  speak  without  having  thought,  reflected  and 
arranged  his  ideas.  Before  speaking  he  should  de- 
cide upon  his  stand-point,  and  see  clearly  what  he 
proposes  to  do.  Even  a  fable  may  be  related  from 
many  points  of  view;  from  that  of  expression  as 
well  as  gesture,  from  that  of  inflection  as  well  as 
articulate  speech.  All  must  be  brought  back  to  a 
scene  in  real  life,  to  one  stand-point,  and  the  orator 
must  create  for  himself,  in  some  sort,  the  role  of 
spectator. 

Silence  gives  gesture  time  to  concentrate,  and  do 
good  execution. 

One   single   rule  applies  tc   silence:    Wherever 


28  VOICE. 

there  is  ellipsis,  there  is  silence.  Hence  the  inter- 
jection and  conjunction,  which  are  essentially  ellip- 
tic, must  always  be  followed  by  a  silence. 

Respiration, —  For  the  act  of  respiration,  three 
movements  are  necessary:  inspiration,  suspension 
and  expiration. 

Its  importance, —  Respiration  is  a  faithful  render- 
ing of  emotion.  For  example :  He  who  reigns  in 
the  skies.  Here  is  a  proposition  which  the  com- 
posed orator  will  state  in  a  breath.  But  should 
he  wish  to  prove  his  emotion,  he  inspires  after  every 
word.  He  -  who  —  reigns  -  in  —  the  —  skies.  Multi- 
plied inspirations  can  be  tolerated  on  the  strength 
of  emotion,  but  they  should  be  made  as  effective  as 
possible. 

Inspiration  is  allowable : — 

1.  After  all  words  preceded  or  followed  by  an 
ellipse ; 

2.  After  words  used  in  apostrophe,  as  Monsieur, 
Madame ; 

3.  After  conjunctions  and  interjections  when  there 
is  silence ; 

4.  After  all  transpositions ;  for  example :  To  live^ 
one  must  work.  Here  the  preposition  to  takes  the 
value  of  its  natural  antecedent,  work ;  that  is  to  say, 
six  degrees,  since  by  inversion  it  precedes  it,  and 
the  gesture  of  the  sentence  bears  wholly  on  the 
preposition ; 

5.  Before  and  after  incidental  phrases; 

6.  Wherever  we  wish  to  indicate  an  emotion. 


INFLECTIONS.  29 

To  facilitate  respiration,  stand  on  tip-toe  and  ex- 
pand the  chest. 

Inspiration  is  a  sign  of  grief;  expiration  is  a  sign 
of  tenderness.  Sorrow  is  inspiratory;  happiness, 
expiratory. 

The  inspiratory  act  expresses  sorrow,  dissimulatior 

The  expiratory  act  expresses  love,  expansion, 
sympathy. 

The  suspensory  act  expresses  reticence  and  dis- 
quietude. A  child  who  has  just  been  corrected  de- 
servedly, and  who  recognizes  his  fault,  expires. 
Another  corrected  unjustly,  and  who  feels  more 
grief  than  love,  inspires. 

Inspiration  is  usually  regulated  by  the  signs  of 
punctuation,  which  have  been  invented  solely  to 
give  more  exactness  to  the  variety  of  sounds. 

Inflections. 
Their  importance. —  Sound,  we  have  said,  is  the 
language  of  man  in  the  sensitive  state.  We  call 
inflections  the  modifications  which  affect  the  voice 
in  rendering  the  emotions  of  the  senses.  The  tones 
of  the  voice  must  vary  with  the  sensations,  each  of 
which  should  have  its  note.  Of  what  use  to  man 
would  be  a  phonetic  apparatus  always  rendering 
the  same  sound  ?  Delivery  is  a  sort  of  music  whose 
excellence  consists  in  a  variety  of  tones  which  rise 
or  fall  according  to  the  things  they  have  to  express. 
Beautiful  but  uniform  voices  resemble  fine  bells 
whose  :one  is  sweet  and  clear,  full  and  agreeable, 


50  VOICE. 

but  which  are,  after  all,  bells,  signifying  nothing, 
devoid  of  harmony  and  consequently  without  vari- 
ety. To  employ  always  the  same  action  and  the 
same  tone  of  voice,  is  Hke  giving  the  same  remedy 
for  all  diseases.  "  Eitnui  was  born  one  day  from 
monotony,"  says  the  fable. 

Man  has  received  from  God  the  privilege  of  re- 
vealing the  inmost  affections  of  his  being  through 
the  thousand  inflections  of  his  voice.  Man's  least 
impressions  are  conveyed  by  signs  which  reveal  har- 
mony, and  which  are  not  the  products  of  chance. 
A  sovereign  wisdom  governs  these  signs. 

With  the  infant  in  its  cradle  the  signs  of  sensi- 
bility are  broken  cries.  Their  acuteness,  their  as- 
cending form,  indicate  the  weakness,  and  physical 
sorrow  of  man.  When  the  child  recognizes  the 
tender  cares  of  its  mother,  its  voice  becomes  less 
shrill  and  broken ;  its  tones  have  a  less  acute  range, 
and  are  more  poised  and  even.  The  larynx,  which 
is  very  impressionable  and  the  thermometer  of  the 
sensitive  life,  becomes  modified,  and  produces  sounds 
and  inflections  in  perfect  unison  with  the  sentiments 
they  convey. 

All  this,  which  man  expresses  in  an  imitative  fash- 
ion, is  numbered,  weighed  and  measured,  and  forms 
an  admirable  harmony.  This  language  through  the 
larynx  is  universal,  and  common  to  all  sensitive  be- 
ings. It  is  universal  with  animals  as  with  man.  Ani- 
mals give  the  identical  sounds  in  similar  positions. 

The  infant,  delighted  at  being  mounted  on  a  table, 


INFLECTIONS.  3 1 

and  calling  his  mother  to  admire  him,  rises  to  the 
fourth  note  of  the  scale.  If  his  delight  becomes 
more  lively,  to  the  sixth;  if  the  mother  is  less 
pleased  than  he  would  have  her,  he  ascends  to  the 
third  minor  to  express  his  displeasure.  Quietude 
is  expressed  by  the  fourth  note. 

Every  situation  has  its  interval,  its  corresponding 
inflection,  its  corresponding  note :  this  is  a  mathe- 
matical language. 

Why  this  magnificent  concert  God  has  arranged 
in  our  midst  if  it  has  no  auditors?  If  God  had 
made  us  only  intelligent  beings,  he  would  have 
given  us  speech  alone  and  without  inflections.  Let 
us  further  illustrate  the  role  of  inflection. 

A  father  receives  a  picture  from  his  daughter. 
He  expresses  his  gratitude  by  a  falling  inflection : 
"Ah  well !  the  dear  child."  The  picture  comes 
from  a  stranger  whom  he  does  not  know  as  a  painter ; 
he  will  say,  "Well  now!  why  does  he  send  me 
this?"    raising  his  voice. 

If  he  does  not  know  from  whom  the  picture 
comes,  his  voice  will  neither  rise  nor  fall ;  he  will 
say,  "Well!  well!  well!" 

Let  us  suppose  that  his  daughter  is  the  painter. 
She  has  executed  a  masterpiece.  Astonished  at 
the  charm  of  this  work  and  at  the  same  time  grate- 
ful, his  voice  will  have  both  inflections. 

If  surprise  predominates  over  love  the  rising  in- 
flection will  predominate.  If  love  and  surprise  are 
equal,  he  will  simply  say,  "  Well  now  I" 


32  VOICE. 

Kan  in  Chinese  signifies  at  the  same  time  the 
roof  of  a  house,  a  cellar,  well,  chamber,  bed  —  the 
inflection  alone  determines  the  meaning.  Roof  is 
expressed  by  the  falling,  cellar  by  the  rising  inflec- 
tion. The  Chinese  note  accurately  the  depth  and 
acuteness  of  sound,  its  intervals  and  its  intensity. 

We  can  say :  ''  It  is  pretty,  this  little  dog  !  "  in  675 
different  ways.  Some  one  would  do  it  harm.  We 
say:  "This  Httle  dog  is  pretty,  do  not  harm  it!" 
"  It  is  pretty  because  it  is  so  little."  If  it  is  a  mis- 
chievous or  vicious  dog,  we  use  pretty  in  an  ironi- 
cal sense.  "  This  dog  has  bitten  my  hand.  It  is  a 
pretty  dog  indee^t!"  etc. 

Rules  of  Inflection. 

1.  Inflections  are  formed  by  an  upward  or  down- 
ward slide  of  the  voice,  or  the  voice  remains  in 
monotone.  Inflections  are,  then,  eccentric,  concen- 
tric and  normal. 

2.  The  voice  rises  in  exaltation,  astonishment, 
and  conflict. 

3.  The  voice  falls  in  affirmation,  affection  and  de- 
jection. 

4.  It  neither  rises  nor  falls  in  hesitation. 

5.  Interrogation  is  expressed  by  the  rising  inflec- 
tion when  we  do  not  know  what  we  ask ;  by  the 
falling,  when  we  do  not  quite  know  what  we  ask. 
For  instance,  a  person  asks  tidings  of  his  friend's 
health,  aware  or  unaware  that  he  is  no  better. 

6.  Musical  tones  should  be  given  to  things  that 


INFLECTIONS.  33 

are  pleasing.     Courtiers  give  musical  inflections  to 
the  words  they  address  to  royalty. 

7.  Every  manifestation  of  life  is  a  song;  every 
sound  is  a  song.  But  inflections  must  not  be  multi- 
plied, lest  delivery  degenerate  into  a  perpetual  sing- 
song. The  effect  lies  entirely  in  reproducing  the 
same  inflection.  A  drop  of  water  falling  constantly, 
hollows  a  rock.  A  mediocre  man  will  employ 
twenty  or  thirty  tones.  Mediocrity  is  not  the  too 
little,  but  the  too  much.  The  art  of  making  a  pro- 
found impression  is  to  condense;  the  highest  art 
would  be  to  condense  a  whole  scene  into  one  inflec- 
tion. Mediocre  speakers  are  always  seeking  to  en- 
rich their  inflections;  they  touch  at  every  range, 
and  lose  themselves  in  a  multitude  ol  intangible 
effects. 

8.  In  real  art  it  is  not  always  necessary  to  fall 
back  upon  logic.  The  reason  needs  illumination 
from  nature,  as  the  eye,  in  order  to  see,  needs  light. 
Reason  may  be  in  contradiction  to  nature.  For 
instance,  a  half-famished  hunter,  in  sight  of  a  good 
dinner,  would  say :  "  I  am  hungry  y'  emphasizing 
hungryy  while  reason  would  say  that  am  must  be 
emphasized.  A  hungry  pauper  would  say :  "  I  am 
hungry,"  dwelling  upon  am  and  ghding  over  hun- 
gry. If  he  were  not  hungry,  or  wished  to  deceive, 
he  would  dwell  upon  hungry. 


34  VOICE. 

Special  Injlections, 

Among  the  special  inflections  we  may  reckon :  — 

1.  Exclamations.  —  Abrupt,  loud,  impassioned 
sounds,  and  improvisations. 

2.  Cries.  —  These  are  prolonged  exclamations 
called  forth  by  a  lively  sentiment  of  some  duration, 
as  acute  suffering,  joy  or  terror.  They  are  formed 
by  the  sound  a.  In  violent  pain  arising  from  a 
physical  cause,  the  cries  assume  three  different 
tones :  one  grave,  another  acute,  the  last  being  the 
lowest,  and  we  pass  from  one  to  the  other  in  a  chro- 
matic order. 

There  are  appealing  cries  which  ask  aid  in  peril. 
These  cries  are  formed  by  the  sounds  e  and  o. 
They  are  slower  than  the  preceding,  but  more  acute 
and  of  greater  intensity. 

3.  Groans. —  Here  the  voice  is  plaintive,  pitiful, 
and  formed  by  two  successive  tones,  the  one  sharp, 
the  final  one  deep.  Its  monotony,  the  constant 
recurrence  of  the  same  inflection,  give  it  a  remark- 
able expression. 

4.  Lame7itation  is  produced  by  a-  voice  loud, 
plaintive,  despairing  and  obstinate,  indicating  a 
heart  which  can  neither  contain  nor  restrain  itself. 

5.  The  sob  is  an  uninterrupted  succession  of 
sounds  produced  by  slight,  continuous  inspirations, 
in  some  sort  convulsive,  and  ending  in  a  long,  vio- 
lent inspiration. 

6.  The  sigh  is  a  weak  low  tone  produced  by  a 


SPECIAL  INFLECTIONS.  35 

quick  expiration  followed  by  a  slow  and  deep  inspi- 
ration. 

7.  The  laugh  is  composed  of  a  succession  of 
loud,  quick,  monotonous  sounds  formed  by  an  un- 
interrupted series  of  slight  expirations,  rapid  and 
somewhat  convulsive,  of  a  tone  more  or  less  acute 
and  prolonged,  and  produced  by  a  deep  inspiration. 

8.  Singing  is  the  voice  modulated  or  composed 
of  a  series  of  appreciable  tones. 


PART  SECOND. 


GESTURE. 


PART   SECOND. 


CHAPTER  I. 
OF  GESTURE  IN  GENERAL. 

Human  word  is  composed  of  three  languages. 
Man  says  what  he  feels  by  inflections  of  the  voice, 
what  he  loves  by  gesture,  what  he  thinks  by  articu- 
late speech.  The  child  begins  with  feeling;  then 
he  loves,  and  later,  he  reasons.  While  the  child 
only  feels,  cries  suffice  him;  when  he  loves,  he 
needs  gestures;  when  he  reasons,  he  must  have 
articulate  language.  The  inflections  of  the  voice 
are  for  sensations,  gesture  is  for  sentiments;  the 
buccal  apparatus  is  for  the  expression  of  ideas. 
Gesture,  then,  is  the  bond  of  union  between  inflec- 
tion and  thought.  Since  gesture,  in  genealogical 
order,  holds  the  second  rank  in  human  languages, 
we  shall  reserve  for  it  that  place  in  the  series  of  our 
oratorical  studies. 

We  are  entering  upon  a  subject  full  of  impor- 
tance and  interest.  We  purpose  to  render  familiar 
the  heart  languagey  the  expression  of  love. 


40  GESTURE. 

We  learn  dead  languages  and  living  languages: 
Greek,  Latin,  German,  English.  Is  it  well  to  know 
conventional  idioms,  and  to  ignore  the  language  of 
nature?  The  body  needs  education  as  well  as  the 
mind.  This  is  no  trivial  work.  Let  it  be  judged 
by  the  steps  of  the  ideal  ladder  we  must  scale 
before  reaching  the  perfection  of  gesture.  Observe 
the  ways  of  laboring  men.  Their  movements  are 
awkward,  the  joints  do  not  play.  This  is  the  first 
step. 

At  a  more  advanced  stage,  the  shoulders  play 
without  the  head.  The  individual  turns  around 
with  a  great  impulse  from  the  shoulders,  with  the 
leg  raised,  but  the  hand  and  the  rest  of  the  body 
remain  inert.  Then  come  the  elbows,  but  without 
the  hand.  Later  come  the  wrist-joint  and  the  torso. 
With  this  movement  of  the  wrist,  the  face  becomes 
mobilized,  for  there  is  great  affinity  between  these 
two  agents.  The  face  and  hand  form  a  most  inter- 
esting unity.  Finally,  from  the  wrist,  the  articula- 
tion passes  to  the  fingers,  and  here  is  imitative 
perfection.  If  we  would  speak  our  language  elo- 
quently, we  must  not  be  beguiled  into  any  patois  of 
gesture. 

Gesture  must  be  studied  in  order  to  render  it  fault- 
lessly elegant,  but  in  such  a  thorough  way  as  not  to 
seem  studied.  It  has  still  higher  claims  to  our 
regard  in  view  of  the  services  it  has  rendered  to 
humanity.  Thanks  to  this  language  of  the  heart, 
thousands  of  deaf-mutes  are  enabled  to  endure  their 


OF   GESTURE   IN   GENERAL.  4 1 

affliction,  and  to  share  our  social  pleasures.  Blessed 
be  the  Abb6  de  I'Ep^e,  who,  by  uniting  the  science 
of  gesture  to  the  conventional  signs  of  dactyology, 
has  made  the  deaf  hear  and  the  dumb  speak  !  This 
beneficent  invention  has  made  gesture  in  a  twofold 
manner,  the  language  of  the  heart. 

Gesture  is  an  important  as  well  as  interesting 
study.  How  beautiful  it  is  to  see  the  thousand 
pieces  of  the  myological  apparatus  set  in  motion 
and  propelled  by  this  grand  motor  feeling !  There 
surely  is  a  joy  in  knowing  how  to  appreciate  an 
image  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  in  understanding  the 
attitudes  of  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity.  We  can  note 
a  mother's  affection  by  the  way  she  holds  her  child 
in  her  arms.  We  can  judge  of  the  sincerity  of  the 
friend  who  grasps  our  hand.  If  he  holds  the  thumb 
inward  and  pendant,  it  is  a  fatal  sign ;  we  no  longer 
trust  him.  To  pray  with  the  thumbs  inward  and 
swaying  to  and  fro,  indicates  a  lack  of  sacred  fervor. 
It  is  a  corpse  who  prays.  If  you  pray  with  the 
arms  extended  and  the  fingers  bent,  there  is  reason 
to  fear  that  you  adore  Plutus.  If  you  embrace  me 
without  elevating  the  shoulders,  you  are  a  Judas. 

What  can  you  do  in  a  museum,  if  you  have  not 
acquired,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  acquire  the  science 
of  gesture?  How  can  you  rightly  appreciate  the 
beauty  of  the  statue  of  Antinous  ?  How  can  you 
note  a  fault  in  Raphael's  picture  of  Moses  making 
water  gush  from  the  rock  ?  How  see  that  he  has 
forgotten  to  have  the  Israelites  raise  their  shoulders, 


42  GESTURE. 

as  they  stand  rapt  in  admiration  of  the  miracle  ? 
One  versed  in  the  science  of  gesture,  as  he  passes 
before  the  Saint  Michael  Fountain,  must  confess 
that  the  statue  of  the  archangel  with  its  parallel 
lines,  is  little  better  than  the  dragon  at  his  feet. 

In  view  of  the  importance  and  interest  of  the  lan- 
guage of  gesture,  we  shall  study  it  thoroughly  in  the 
second  book  of  our  course. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DEFINITION  AND   DIVISION  OF  GESTURE. 

Gesture  is  the  direct  agent  of  the  heart,  the  inter- 
preter of  speech.  It  is  elliptical  discourse.  Each 
part  of  this  definition  may  be  easily  justified. 

1 .  Gesture  is  the  Direct  Agent  of  the  Heart. — Look 
at  an  infant.  For  some  time  he  manifests  his  joy  or 
sorrow  through  cries  ;  but  these  are  not  gesture. 
When  he  comes  to  know  the  cause  of  his  joy  or 
sorrow,  sentiment  awakens,  his  heart  opens  to  love 
or  hatred,  and  he  expresses  his  new  emotion  not  by 
cries  alone,  nor  yet  by  speech ;  he  smiles  upon  his 
mother,  and  his  first  gesture  is  a  smile.  Beings 
endowed  only  with  the  sensitive  life,  have  no  smile ; 
animals  do  not  laugh. 

This  marvelous  correspondence  of  the  organs 
with  the  sentiment  arises  from  the  close  union  of 
soul  and  body.  The  brain  ministers  to  the  opera- 
tions of  the  soul.  Every  sentiment  must  have  its 
echo  in  the  brain,  in  order  to  be  unerringly  trans- 
mitted by  the  organic  apparatus. 

Ex  visu  cognoscitur  vir,  ("  The  man  is  known 
by  his  face.")  The  role  of  dissimulation  is  a  very 
difficult  one  to  sustain. 

2.  Gesture  is  the  Interpreter  of  Speech. — Gesture 
has  been   given  to  man  to  reveal  what  speech  is 


44  GESTURE. 

powerless  to  express.  For  example :  /  love.  This 
phrase  says  nothing  of  the  nature  of  the  being  loved, 
nothing  of  the  fashion  in  which  one  loves.  Gesture, 
by  a  simple  movement,  reveals  all  this,  and  says  it 
far  better  than  speech,  which  would  know  how  to 
render  it  only  by  many  successive  words  and  phras- 
es. A  gesture,  then,  like  a  ray  of  light,  can  reflect 
all  that  passes  in  the  soul. 

Hence,  if  we  desire  that  a  thing  shall  be  always 
remembered,  we  must  not  say  it  in  words ;  we  must 
let  it  be  divined,  revealed  by  gesture.  Wherever  an 
ellipse  is  supposable  in  a  discourse,  gesture  must 
intervene  to  explain  this  ellipse. 

3.  Gesture  is  an  Elliptical  Language. — ^We  call 
ellipse  a  hidden  meaning  whose  revelation  belongs 
to  gesture.  A  gesture  must  correspond  to  every 
ellipse.  For  example:  "This  medley  of  glory  and 
gain  vexes  me."  If  we  attribute  something  igno- 
minious or  abject  to  the  word  medley^  there  is  an 
ellipse  in  the  phrase,  because  the  ignominy  is  im- 
plied rather  than  expressed.  Gesture  is  then  neces- 
sary here  to  express  the  value  of  the  implied  adjec- 
tive, ignominious. 

Suppress  this  ellipse,  and  the  gesture  must  also 
be  suppressed,  for  gesture  is  not  the  accompaniment 
of  speech.  It  must  express  the  idea  better  and  in 
another  way,  else  it  will  be  only  a  pleonasm,  an  after 
conception  of  bad  taste,  »  hindrance  rather  than  an 
aid  to  intelligible  expression. 


DIVISION   OF    GESTURE.  45 

Division  of  Gesture, 

Every  act,  gesture  and  movement  has  its  rule,  Its 
execution  and  its  raison  d'etre.  The  imitative  is 
also  divided  into  three  parts :  the  static,  the  dy- 
namic and  the  semeiotic.  The  static  is  the  base, 
the  dynamic  is  the  centre,  and  the  semeiotic  the 
summit.  The  static  is  the  equiponderation  of  the 
powers  or  agents ;   it  corresponds  to  life. 

The  dynamic  is  the  form  of  movements.  The 
dynamic  is  melodic,  harmonic  and  rhythmic.  Ges- 
tore  is  melodic  by  its  forms  or  its  inflections.  To 
understand  gesture  one  must  study  melody.  There 
is  great  affinity  between  the  inflections  of  the  voice 
and  gesture.  All  the  inflections  of  the  voice  are 
common  to  gesture.  The  inflections  of  gesture  are 
oblique  for  the  life,  direct  for  the  soul  and  circular 
for  the  mind.  These  three  terms,  oblique,  direct 
and  circular,  correspond  to  the  eccentric,  normal 
and  concentric  states.  The  movements  of  flection 
are  direct,  those  of  rotation,  circular,  those  of  ab- 
duction, oblique. 

Gesture  is  harmonic  through  the  multiplicity  of 
the  agents  which  act  in  the  same  manner.  This 
harmony  is  founded  upon  the  convergence  or  oppo- 
sition of  the  movements.  Thus  the  perfect  accord 
Is  the  consonance  of  the  three  agents, —  head,  torso 
and  limbs.  Dissonance  arises  from  the  divergence 
of  one  of  these  agents. 

Finally,  gesture  is  rhythmic  because  its  move- 


4-6  GESTURE. 

ments  are  subordinated  to  a  given  measure.  The 
dynamic  corresponds  to  the  soul. 

The  semeiotic  gives  the  reason  of  movements, 
and  has  for  its  object  the  careful  examination  of 
inflections,  attitudes  and  types. 

Under  our  first  head,  we  treat  of  the  static  and 
of  gesture  in  general ;  under  our  second,  of  the 
dynamic,  and  of  gesture  in  particular;  and  finally, 
under  our  third  head,  of  the  semeiotic,  with  an  ex- 
position of  the  laws  of  gesture. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ORIGIN  AND  ORATORICAL  VALUE  OF  GESTURE. 

Origin. 
The  infant  in  the  cradle  has  neither  speech  nor 
gesture :  —  he  cries.  As  he  gains  sensibility  his 
tones  grow  richer,  become  inflections,  are  multiplied 
and  attain  the  number  of  three  million  special  and 
distinct  inflections.  The  young  infant  manifests 
neither  intelligence  nor  affection  ;  but  he  reveals  his 
life  by  sounds.  When  he  discerns  the  source  of 
his  joys  or  sufferings,  he  -loves,  and  gesticulates  to 
repulse  or  to  invite.  The  gestures,  which  are  few 
at  first,  become  quite  numerous.  It  is  God's  art  he 
follows ;  he  is  an  artist  without  knowing  it. 

Oratorical  Value  of  Gesture, 
The  true  aim  of  art  is  to  move,  to  interest  and  to 
persuade.  Emotion,  interest  and  persuasion  are 
the  first  terms  of  art.  Emotion  is  expressed  by  the 
voice,  by  sounds  ;  interest,  by  language ;  persuasion 
is  the  office  of  gesture. 

To  inflection  belongs  emotion  through  the  beau- 
tiful ;  to  logic,  interest  through  the  truth ;  to  plastic 
art,  persuasion  through  the  good. 

Gesture  is  more  than  speech.  It  is  not  what  we 
say  that  persuades,  but  the  manner  of  saying  it. 
The  mind  can  be  interested  by  speech,  it  must  be 


48  GESTURE. 

persuaded  by  gesture.     If  the  face  bears  no  sign  of 
persuasion,  we  do  not  persuade. 

Why  at  first  sight  does  a  person  awaken  our 
sympathy  or  antipathy?  We  do  not  understand 
why,  but  it  is  by  reason  of  his  gestures. 

Speech  is  inferior  to  gesture,  because  it  corre- 
sponds to  the  phenomena  of  mind ;  gesture  is  the 
agent  of  the  heart,  it  is  the  persuasive  agent. 

Articulate  language  is  weak  because  it  is  succes- 
sive. It  must  be  enunciated  phrase  by  phrase ;  by 
words,  syllables,  letters,  consonants  and  vowels — 
and  these  do  not  end  it.  That  which  demands  a 
volume  is  uttered  by  a  single  gesture.  A  hundred 
pages  do  not  say  what  a-  simple  movement  may  ex- 
press, because  this  simple  movement  expresses  our 
whole  being.  Gesture  is  the  direct  agent  of  the 
soul,  while  language  is  analytic  and  successive. 
The  leading  quality  of  mind  is  number;  it  is  to 
speculate,  to  reckon,  while  gesture  grasps  every- 
thing by  intuition, — sentiment  as  well  as  contempla- 
tion. There  is  something  marvelous  in  this  lan- 
guage, because  it  has  relations  with  another  sphere ; 
it  is  the  world  of  grace. 

An  audience  must  not  be  supposed  to  resemble 
an  individual.  A  man  of  the  greatest  intelligence 
finding  himself  in  an  audience,  is  no  longer  himself. 
An  audience  is  never  intelligent;  it  is  a  multiple 
being,  composed  of  sense  and  sentiment.  The 
greater  the  numbers,  the  less  intelligence  has  to  do. 
To  seek  to  act  upon  an  individual  by  gesture  would 


ORATORICAL  VALUE  OF  GESTURE.  49 

be  absurd.     The  reverse  is  true  with  an  audience ; 
it  is  persuaded  not  by  reasoning,  but  by  gesture. 

There  is  here  a  current  none  can  control.  We 
applaud  disagreeable  things  in  spite  of  ourselves  — 
things  we  should  condemn,  were  they  said  to  us  in 
private.  The  audience  is  not  composed  of  intellec- 
tual people,  but  of  people  with  senses  and  hearts. 
As  sentiment  is  the  highest  thing  in  art,  it  should 
be  applied  to  gesture. 

If  the  gestures  are  good,  the  most  wretched 
speaking  is  tolerated.  So  much  the  better  if  the 
speaking  is  good,  but  gesture  is  the  all-important 
thing.  Gesture  is  superior  to  each  of  the  other 
languages,  because  it  embraces  the  constituent  parts 
of  our  being.  Gesture  includes  everything  within 
us.  Sound  is  the  gesture  of  the  vocal  apparatus. 
The  consonants  and  vowels  are  the  gesture  of  the 
buccal  apparatus,  and  gesture,  properly  so  called,  is 
the  product  of  the  myological  apparatus. 

It  is  not  ideas  that  move  the  masses  ;  it  is  gestures. 

We  easily  reach  the  heart  and  soul  through  the 
senses.  Music  acts  especially  on  the  senses.  It 
purifies  them,  it  gives  intelligence  to  the  hand,  it 
disposes  the  heart  to  prayer.  The  three  languages 
may  each  move,  interest  and  persuade. 

Language  is  a  sort  of  music  which  moves  us 
through  vocal  expression;  it  is  besides  normal 
through  the  gesture  of  articulation.  No  language 
is  exclusive.  All  interpenetrate  and  communicate 
their  action.  The  action  of  music  is  general. 
4 


50  GESTURE. 

The  mind  and  the  life  are*  active  only  for  the 
satisfaction  of  the  heart ;  then,  since  the  heart  con- 
trols all  our  actions,  gesture  must  control  all  other 
languages. 

Gesture  is  magnetic,  speech  is  not  so.  Through 
gesture  we  subdue  the  most  ferocious  animals. 

The  ancients  were  not  ignorant  of  this  all-power- 
ful empire  of  gesture  over  an  audience.  Therefore, 
sometimes  to  paralyze,  sometimes  to  augment  this 
magic  power,  orators  were  obliged  to  cover  their 
faces  with  a  mask,  when  about  to  speak  in  public. 
The  judges  of  the  Areopagus  well  knew  the  power 
of  gesture,  and  to  avoid  its  seductions,  they  adopted 
the  resource  of  hearing  pleas  only  in  the  darkness. 

The  sign  of  the  cross  made  at  the  opening  of  a 
sermon  often  has  great  effect  upon  good  Catholics. 
Let  a  priest  with  his  eyes  concentric  and  introspec- 
tive make  deliberately  the  sign  of  the  cross  while 
solemnly  uttering  these  words :  "In  -  the  -  name  - 
of- the- Father ;  "  then  let  his  glance  sweep  the 
audience.  What  do  they  think  of  him?  This  is 
no  longer  an  ordinary  man ;  he  seems  clothed  with 
the  majesty  of  God,  whose  orders  he  has  just  re- 
ceived, and  in  whose  name  he  brings  them.  This 
idea  gives  him  strength  and  assurance,  and  his  audi- 
ence respect  and  docility. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   LAWS   OF   GESTURE. 

The  static  treats  of  the  laws  of  gesture  which  are 
six  in  number,  viz. :  Priority,  retroaction,  the  oppo- 
sition of  agents,  unity,  stability  and  rhythm. 

The  Priority  of  Gesture  to  Speech, 
Gesture  must  always  precede  speech.  In  fact, 
speech  is  reflected  expression.  It  must  come  after 
gesture,  which  is  parallel  with  the  impression  re- 
ceived. Nature  incites  a  movement,  speech  names 
this  movement.  Speech  is  only  the  title,  the  label 
of  what  gesture  has  anticipated.  Speech  comes 
only  to  confirm  what  the  audience  already  compre- 
hend. Speech  is  given  for  naming  things.  Gesture 
asks  the  question,  "What?"  and  speech  answers. 
Gesture  after  the  answer  would  be  absurd.  Let  the 
word  come  after  the  gesture  and  there  will  be  no 
pleonasm. 

Priority  of  gesture  may  be  thus  explained :  First 
a  movement  responds  to  the  sensation ;  then  a  ges- 
ture, which  depicts  the  emotion,  responds  to  the 
imagination  which  colors  the  sensation.  Then 
comes  the  judgment  which  approves.  Finally,  we 
consider  the  audience,  and  this  view  of  the  audience 
suggests  the  appropriate  expression  for  that  which 
has  already  been  expressed  by  gesture. 


$2  GESTURE. 

The  basis  of  this  art  is  to  make  the  auditors 
divine  what  we  would  have  them  feel. 

Every  speaker  may  choose  his  own  stand-point, 
but  the  essential  law  is  to  anticipate,  to  justify  speech 
by  gesture.  Speech  is  the  verifier  of  the  fact  ex- 
pressed. The  thing  may  be  expressed  before  an- 
nouncing its  name.  Sometimes  we  let  the  auditors 
divine  rather  than  anticipate,  gazing  at  them  in 
order  to  rivet  their  attention.  Eloquence  is  com- 
posed of  many  things  which  are  not  named,  but 
must  be  named  by  slight  gestures.  In  this  elo- 
quence consists.  Thus  a  smack  of  the  tongue,  a 
blow  upon  the  hand,  an  utterance  of  the  vowel  ii 
as  if  one  would  remove  a  stain  from  his  coat.  The 
writer  cannot  do  all  this.  The  mere  rendition  of  the 
written  discourse  is  nothing  for  the  orator ;  his  tal- 
ent consists  in  taking  advantage  of  a  great  number 
of  little  nameless  sounds. 

A  written  discourse  must  contain  forced  epithets 
and  adjectives  to  illustrate  the  subject.  In  a  spoken 
discourse  a  great  number  of  adjectives  are  worse 
than  useless.  Gesture  and  inflection  of  the  voice 
supply  their  place.  The  sense  is  not  in  the  words ; 
it  is  in  inflection  and  gesture. 

Retroaction, 

We    have    formulated    this    general   law:      The 

eccentric,  normal  and  concentric  expression   must 

correspond  to  the  sensitive,  moral  and  intellectual 

state  of  man.     When  gesture  is  concerned,  the  law 


RETROACTION.  53 

IS  thus  modified :  In  the  sensitive  state,  the  gesture, 
which  is  naturally  eccentric,  may  become  concen- 
tric, as  the  orator  is  passive  or  active. 

He  is  passive  when  subject  to  any  action  what- 
ever, when  he  depicts  an  emotion. 

He  is  agent  when  he  communicates  to  the  au- 
dience the  expression  of  his  own  will  or  power ;  in 
a  word,  at  all  times  when  he  controls  his  audience. 

When  the  orator  assumes  the  passive  role,  that  is, 
when  he  reflects,  he  gazes  upon  his  audience;  he 
makes  a  backward  (or  concentric)  movement ;  when 
he  assumes  the  active  role,  he  makes  a  forward  (or 
eccentric)  movement.  When  one  speaks  to  others, 
he  advances ;  when  one  speaks  to  himself,  he  recoils 
a  step,  his  thought  centres  upon  himself. 

In  the  passive  state,  one  loves.  But  when  he 
loves,  he  does  not  move  forward.  A  being  who 
feels,  draws  back,  and  contemplates  the  object 
toward  which  the  hand  extends.  Contemplation 
makes  the  body  retroact. 

Hence  in  the  passive  state,  the  orator  must  step 
backward.  In  the  opposite  state  he  moves  forward. 
Let  us  apply  this  law :  A  spendthrift  officer  meets 
his  landlord,  whom  he  has  not  yet  paid,  and  greets 
him  with  an — '*Ah,  good  day,  sir!  "  What  will  be 
his  movement?  It  must  be  retroactive.  In  the  joy 
of  seeing  a  friend  again,  as  also  in  fright,  we  start 
back  from  the  object  loved  or  hated.  Such  is  the 
law  of  nature,  and  it  cannot  be  ignored. 

Whence   comes  this   law?     To   behold    a  loved 


54  GESTURE. 

object  fully,  we  must  step  back,  remove  to  some 
little  distance  from  it.  Look  at  a  painter  admiring 
his  work.  It  is  retroaction  at  sight  of  a  beloved 
person,  which  has  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  phe- 
nomena of  life,  to  this  triple  state  of  man  which  is 
found  in  like  manner,  everywhere :  Concentric,  ec- 
centric, and  normal. 

The  concentric  is  the  passive  state,  for  when  one 
experiences  a  deep  emotion,  he  must  retroact. 
Hence  a  demonstration  of  affection  is  not  made 
with  a  forward  movement.  If  so,  there  is  no  love. 
Expiration  is  the  sign  of  him  who  gives  his  heart. 
Hence  there  is  joy  and  love.  In  inspiration  there 
is  retroaction,  and,  in  some  sort,  distrust.  The  hand 
extends  toward  the  beloved  object;  if  the  hand 
tend  toward  itself,  a  love  of  self  is  indicated.  Love 
is  expressed  by  a  retroactive,  never  by  a  forward 
movement.  In  portraying  this  sentiment  the  hand 
must  not  be  carried  to  the  heart.  This  is  nonsense ; 
it  is  an  oratorical  crime.  The  hand  must  tend 
toward  the  loved  being  to  caress,  to  grasp,  to  reas- 
sure or  to  defend.  The  hand  is  carried  to  the  heart 
only  in  case  of  suffering  there. 

Take  this  passage  from  Racine's  Phedre : 

Dieu — que  ne  puis-je  a  V ombre  des  forets, 

Suivre  de  Foeil  U7i  char  fuyant  dans  la  carri^re — 

("  God — may  I  not,  through  the  dim  forest  shades. 
With  my  glance  follow  a  fleet  chariot's  course.") 

Here  the  actor  does  not  follow  affectionately,  but 


OPPOSITION   or  AGENTS.  55 

with  the  eye,  and  then  by  recoiling  and  concentrat- 
ing his  thought  upon  himself. 
In  the  role  of  Emilie  : 

^'He  may  in  falling  crush  thee  'neath  his  fall y^ 

at  sight  of  her  crushed  lover  Emilie  must  recoil  in 
terror,  and  not  seem  to  add  the  weight  of  her  body 
to  that  which  crushes  the  victim. 

Augustus,  on  the  contrary,  may  say: 

"  I  might  in  falling  crush  thee  'neath  my  fall," 

pausing  upon  a  forward  movement,  because  he  is 
here  the  agent. 

Let  us  note  in  passing  that  the  passive  attitude  is 
the  type  of  energetic  natures.  They  have  some- 
thing in  themselves  which  suffices  them.  This  is  a 
sort  of  repose ;    it  is  elasticity. 

Opposition  of  Agents. 
The  opposition  of  the  agents  is  the  harmony  of 
gesture.  Harmony  is  born  of  contrasts.  From 
opposition,  equilibrium  is  born  in  turn.  Equilib- 
rium is  the  great  law  of  gesture,  and  condemns  par- 
allelism;  and  these  are  the  laws  of  equilibrium: 

1.  The  forward  inclination  of  the  torso  corre- 
sponds to  the  movement  of  the  leg  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

2.  When  one  arm  is  added  to  the  weight  of  the 
already  inclined  torso,  the  other  arm  must  rise  to 
form  a  counterpoise. 

3.  In  gazing  into  a  well,  the  two  arms  must  be 


5  6  GESTURE. 

drawn  backward  if  the  body  is  equally  supported 
by  the  two  legs ;  in  like  manner  the  two  arms  may 
be  carried  in  front  if  the  torso  bends  backward. 
This  is  allowable  only  in  the  first  attitude  of  the 
base,  or  in  a  similar  attitude. 

The  harmonic  law  of  gesture  is  the  static  law  par 
excellence. 

It  is  of  childlike  simplicity.  We  employ  it  in 
walking ;  also  when  we  carry  a  weight  in  one  hand, 
the  other  rises.  The  law  consists  in  placing  the 
acting  levers  in  opposition,  and  thus  realizing  equi- 
librium. All  that  is  in  equihbrium  is  harmonized. 
All  ancient  art  is  based  upon  this  opposition  of 
levers.  Modern  art,  with  but  few  exceptions,  is 
quite  the  contrary. 

Here  is  an  example  of  the  observance  of  this 
rule :  If  the  head  and  arms  are  in  action,  the  head 
must  move  in  opposition  to  the  arms  and  the  hand. 
If  both  move  in  the  same  direction,  there  is  a  defect 
in  equilibrium,  and  awkwardness  results. 

When  the  arm  rises  to  the  head,  the  head  bends 
forward  and  meets  it  half-way.  The  reverse  is  true. 
Every  movement  in  the  hand  has  its  responsive 
movement  in  the  head.  If  the  head  advances,  the 
hand  withdraws.  The  movements  must  balance,  so 
that  the  body  may  be  in  equilibrium  and  remain 
balanced. 

Here  is  the  difference  between  ancient  and 
modern  art.  Let  us  suppose  a  statue  of  Corneille 
reading  his  works.     To-day  we  should  pose  it  with 


NUMBER  OF  GESTURES.  5/ 

one  leg  and  arm  advanced.  This  is  parallelism. 
Formerly  the  leg  would  have  been  opposed  to  this 
movement  of  the  arm,  because  there  should  be  here 
the  expansion  of  the  author  toward  his  work,  and 
this  expansion  results  precisely  from  an  opposition 
of  levers. 

We  know  the  ancient  gladiator;  we  do  exactly 
the  opposite  from  him  in  fencing. 

Modern  art  makes  the  man  walk  with  leg  and. 
arm  parallel.  Ancient  art  would  have  the  leg 
opposed  to  the  arm. 

It  is  through  opposition  that  the  smile  expresses 
moral  sadness.  This  law  of  opposition  must  be 
observed  in  the  same  member.  For  example,  the 
hand  should  be  opposed  to  the  arm.  Thus  we  have 
magnificent  spheroidal  movements  which  are  grace- 
ful and  also  have  considerable  force.  Thus  all  the 
harmonies  occur  in  one  same  whole,  in  one  same 
truth.  In  a  word,  all  truths  interpenetrate,  and 
when  a  thing  is  true  from  one  point  of  view,  it  is  so 
from  all. 

Number  of  Gestures, 

Many  reasons  go  to  prove  that  gestures  need  not 
be  multiplied : 

A. — ^We  are  moved  by  only  one  sentiment  at  a 
time ;  hence  it  is  useless  to  multiply  gestures. 

B. — But  one  gesture  is  needed  for  the  expression 
of  an  entire  thought ;  since  it  is  not  the  word  but 
the  thought  that  the  gesture  must  announce;  if  it 


58  GESTURE. 

expressed  only  the  word,  it  would  be  trivial  and 
mean,  and  also  prejudicial  to  the  effect  of  the  phrase. 

In  these  phrases :  "  What  do  you  seek  in  the 
world,  happiness?  It  is  not  there,"  that  which 
first  strikes  us  is  the  absence  of  happiness.  Gesture 
must  indicate  it  in  advance,  and  this  should  be  the 
dominating  movement. 

The  intelligent  man  makes  few  gestures.  To 
multiply  gestures  indicates  a  lack  of  intelligence. 
The  face  is  the  thermometer  of  intelligence.  Let 
as  much  expression  as  possible  be  given  to  the  face. 
A  gesture  made  by  the  hand  is  wrong  when  not 
justified  in  advance  by  the  face.  Intelligence  is 
manifested  by  the  face.  When  the  intelligent  man 
speaks,  he  employs  great  movements  only  when  they 
are  justified  by  great  exaltation  of  sentiment ;  and, 
furthermore,  these  sentiments  should  be  stamped 
upon  his  face.  Without  expression  of  the  face,  all 
gestures  resemble  telegraphic  movements. 

C. — ^The  repeated  extension  of  the  arms  denotes 
but  little  intelligence,  little  suppleness  in  the  wrist 
and  fingers.  The  movement  of  a  single  finger  indi- 
cates great  finesse. 

It  is  easy  to  distinguish  the  man  of  head,  heart 
and  actions.  The  first  makes  many  gestures  of  the 
head ;  the  second  many  of  the  shoulders ;  the  last 
moves  the  arms  often  and  inappropriately. 

D. — Gesture  is  allowable  only  when  an  ellipse  of 
the  word  or  phrase  admits  of  an  additional  value. 

E. — Effects  must  not  be  multiplied;    this  is  an 


NUMBER  OF  GESTURES.  59 

essential  precaution.  Multiplied  movements  are 
detrimental  when  a  graver  movement  is  awaited. 

F. — The  orator  is  free  to  choose  between  the  role 
of  actor  or  that  of  mere  spectator  or  narrator.  Neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  can  be  forced  upon  him.  The 
actor's  role  arises  not  from  intelligence  but  simply 
from  instinct.  The  actor  identifies  himself  with  the 
personages  he  represents.  He  renders  all  their  sen- 
timents. This  role  is  the  most  powerful,  but,  before 
making  it  the  object  of  his  choice,  there  must  be 
severe  study ;   he  must  not  run  the  risk  of  frivolity. 

We  can  dictate  to  the  preacher  and  mark  out  his 
path.  He  must  not  be  an  actor,  but  a  doctor.  Hence 
his  gestures  must  never  represent  the  impressions  of 
those  of  whom  he  speaks,  but  his  own.  Hence  he 
should  proportion  the  number  of  his  gestures  to  the 
number  of  his  sentiments. 

G. — If  the  orator  would  speak  to  any  purpose, 
he  must  bring  back  his  discourse  to  some  picture 
from  nature,  some  scene  from  real  life. 

There  must  be  unity  in  everything;  but  a  role 
may  be  condensed  in  two  or  three  traits ;  therefore 
a  great  number  of  gestures  is  not  necessary. 

Let  it  be  carefully  noted :  the  expression  of  the 
face  should  make  the  gesture  of  the  arms  forgotten. 
Here  the  talent  of  the  orator  shines  forth.  He  must 
captivate  his  public  in  such  a  way  that  his  arm  ges- 
tures will  be  ignored.  He  must  so  fascinate  his 
auditors  that  they  cannot  ask  the  reason  of  this  fas- 
cination, nor  remark  that  he  gesticulates  at  all. 


60  GESTURE. 

H. — Where  there  are  two  gestures  in  the  same 
idea,  one  of  them  must  come  before  the  proposition, 
the  other  in  its  midst. 

If  there  is  but  one  gesture  and  it  precedes  the 
proposition,  the  term  to  which  it  is  appHed  must  be 
precisely  indicated. 

For  example ;  Would  he  he  sensible  to  friendship? 
Although  friendship  may  in  some  degree  be  quali- 
fied as  the  indirect  regimen,  gesture  should  portray 
it  in  all  its  attributes. 

Duration  of  Gesture. 

The  suspension  or  prolongation  of  a  movement  is 
one  of  the  great  sources  of  effect.  It  is  in  suspen- 
sion that  force  and  interest  consist.  A  good  thing 
is  worth  being  kept  in  sight  long  enough  to  allow  an 
enjoyment  of  the  view. 

The  orator  should  rest  upon  the  preceding  ges- 
ture until  a  change  is  absolutely  required. 

A  preoccupied  man  greets  you  with  a  smile,  and 
after  you  have  left,  he  smiles  on,  until  something 
else  occurs  to  divert  his  mind. 

The  orator's  abstraction  should  change  the  face, 
but  not  the  gesture.  If  the  double  change  takes 
place  simultaneously,  there  will  be  no  unity.  The 
gesture  should  be  retained  and  the  expression  of  the 
face  changed. 

A  variety  of  effects  and  inflections  should  be 
avoided.  While  the  speaker  is  under  the  influence 
of  the  same  sentiment,  the  same  inflection  and  ges- 


THE  RHYTHM  OF  GESTURE.  6 1 

ture  must  be  retained,  so  that  there  may  be  unity 
of  style. 

Art  proposes  three  things :  to  move,  to  interest, 
to  persuade  by  unity  of  inflection  and  gesture. 
One  effect  must  not  destroy  another.  Divergence 
confuses  the  audience,  and  leaves  no  time  for 
sentiment. 

It  is  well  to  remember  that  the  stone  becomes 
hollowed  by  the  incessant  fall  of  the  drop  of  water 
in  the  same  place. 

The  Rhythm  of  Gesture, 

Gesture  is  at  the  same  time  melodic,  or  rather 
inflective,  harmonic  and  rhythmic.  It  must  em- 
brace the  elements  of  music,  since  it  corresponds  to 
the  soul ;  it  is  the  language  of  the  soul,  and  the  soul 
necessarily  includes  the  life  with  its  diverse  methods 
of  expression,  and  the  mind.  Gesture  is  melodic  or 
inflective  through  the  richness  of  its  forms,  har- 
monic through  the  multiplicity  of  parts  that  unite 
simultaneously  to  produce  it.  Gesture  is  rhythmic 
through  its  movement,  more  or  less  slow,  or  more 
or  less  rapid. 

Gesture  is,  then,  inevitably  synthetic,  and  conse- 
quently harmonic;  for  harmony  is  but  another 
name  for  synthesis. 

Each  of  the  inflective,  harmonic  and  rhythmic 
modes  has  its  peculiar  law. 

The  rhythmic  law  of  gesture  is  thus  formu- 
lated : 


62  GESTURE. 

"The  rhythm  of  gesture  is  proportional  to  the 
mass  to  be  moved." 

The  more  an  organ  is  restrained,  the  more  vehe- 
ment is  its  impulse. 

This  law  is  based  upon  the  vibration  of  the  pen- 
dulum. Great  levers  have  slow  movements,  small 
agents  more  rapid  ones.  The  head  moves  more 
rapidly  when  the  torso  and  the  eye  have  great 
facility  of  motion.  Thus  the  titillations  of  the  eye 
are  rapid  as  lightning. 

This  titillation  always  announces  an  emotion. 
Surprise  is  feigned  if  there  is  no  titillation. 

For  example,  at  the  unexpected  visit  of  a  friend 
there  is  a  lighting  up  of  the  eye.  Wherefore? 
Because  the  image  is  active  in  the  imagination. 
This  is  an  image  which  passes  within  ourselves, 
which  lies  in  inward  phenomena. 

So  in  relation  to  material  phenomena :  there  is  a 
convergence,  a  direction  of  the  eyes  toward  the 
object;  if  the  object  changes  place,  the  eyes  cannot 
modify  their  manner  of  convergence;  they  must 
close  to  find  a  new  direction,  a  convergence  suited 
to  the  distance  of  the  object. 

There  is  never  sympathetic  vision.  The  phe- 
nomena of  the  imagination  are  in  the  imagination 
at  a  fixed  distance.  When  an  image  changes  place 
in  the  idea,  it  produces  a  titillation  equal  to  that 
which  would  be  produced  in  the  order  of  ma- 
terial things.  For  example,  let  us  quote  these 
lines : 


IMPORTANCE  OF  THE  LAWS   OF  GESTURE.      63 

"At  last  I  have  him  in  my  power, 
This  fatal  foe,  this  haughty  conqueror ! 
Through  him  my  captives  leave  their  slavery." 

Here  the  body  must  be  calm ;  there  is  a  sort  of 
vehemence  in  the  eyes ;  it  will  be  less  in  the  head 
than  in  the  arms.  All  these  movements  are  made, 
but  the  body  remains  firm.  Generally  the  reverse 
takes  place ;  the  whole  body  is  moved ;  but  this  is 
wrong. 

In  these  words :  "  Where  are  they,  these  wretch- 
es ? "  there  must  be  great  violence  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  body,  but  the  step  is  very  calm. 

To  affect  a  violent  gait  is  an  awkward  habit. 
A  modified  slowness  in  the  small  agents  creates 
emphasis;  if  we  give  them  too  great  facility  of 
movement,  the  gestures  become  mean  and  wretched. 

Rhythm  is  in  marvelous  accord  with  nature  under 
the  impulse  of  God. 

Importance  of  the  Laws  of  Gesture, 
We  never  really  understand  an  author's  meaning. 
Every  one  is  free  to  interpret  him  according  to  his 
individual  instinct.  But  we  must  know  how  to  jus- 
tify his  interpretation  by  gesture.  Principles  must 
aid  us  in  choosing  a  point  of  view  in  accordance 
with  his  individual  nature ;  otherwise  incoherence  is 
inevitable.  Hence  rules  are  indispensable.  But 
when  the  law  is  known,  each  applies  it  in  accordance 
with  his  own  idea. 

The  author  himself  cannot  read  without  rules,  in 


64  GESTURE. 

such  a  manner  as  to  convey  the  ideas  he  intended  to 
express.  Only  through  rules  can  we  become  free  in 
our  interpretation ;  we  are  not  free  without  law,  for 
in  this  case  we  are  subject  to  the  caprice  of  some 
master. 

The  student  of  oratory  should  not  be  a  servile 
copyist.  In  the  arrangement  of  his  effects,  he  must 
copy,  imitate  and  compose.  Let  him  first  reproduce 
a  fixed  model,  the  lesson  of  the  master.  This  is  to 
copy.  Let  him  then  reproduce  the  lesson  in  the 
absence  of  the  master.  This  is  to  imitate.  Finally, 
let  him  reproduce  a  fugitive  model.  This  is  to  com- 
pose. 

Thus  to  reproduce  a  lesson,  to  give  its  analysis 
and  synthesis,  is  to  disjoint,  to  unite  and  to  reunite ; 
this  is  the  progressive  order  of  work. 

The  copying  and  imitative  exercises  should  be 
followed  by  compositions,  applying  the  principles 
already  known.  The  orator  may  be  allowed  play 
for  his  peculiar  genius ;  he  may  be  sublime  even  in 
employing  some  foolish  trick  of  his  art.  But  what- 
ever he  does,  he  must  be  guided  by  fixed  rules. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  GESTURE  IN  PARTICULAR. 

The  Head, 

The  dynamic  apparatus  is  composed  of  the  head, 
the  torso  and  the  limbs.  As  in  the  vocal  apparatus, 
we  have  the  lever,  the  impelling  force,  and  the  ful- 
crum. 

The  dynamic  apparatus  produces  gesture,  which 
renders  the  moral  or  normal  state;  as  the  voice 
expresses  inflection  and  reveals  the  sensitive  state. 

The  head  must  be  studied  under  two  relations : 
as  the  agent  of  expression  through  its  movements, 
and  as  the  centre  of  attraction ;  that  is,  the  point  of 
departure  or  arrival  for  the  different  gestures  of  the 
arm. 

Let  us  now  apply  ourselves  to  the  signification  of 
the  movements  of  the  head  and  eyes,  the  face  and 
lips. 

The  Movements  of  the  Head. 

There  are  two  sorts  of  movements  of  the  head: 
movements  of  attitude  and  fugitive  movements. 

Movements  of  Attitude. — The  head  has  nine  pri- 
mary attitudes,  from  which  many  others  proceed. 

In  the  normal  attitude,  the  head  is  neither  high 
nor  low. 

In  the  concentric  attitude  the  head  is  lowered; 
this  is  the  reflective  state. 
5 


66  GESTURE. 

In  the  eccentric  attitude  the  head  is  elevated; 
this  is  the  vital  state. 

Soldiers  and  men  of  robust  physique  carry  the 
head  high. 

Here  are  three  genera,  each  of  which  gives  three 
species. 

TAe  Normal  State, 

When  the  head  is  erect,  it  is  passive  and  neutral. 

The  head  inclining  laterally  toward  the  interlocu- 
tor indicates  affection. 

If  in  the  inverse  direction,  opposite  the  interlocu- 
tor, sensualism  is  indicated.  This  is  in  fact  retroac- 
tion ;  in  the  first  case  we  love  the  soul,  in  the  latter 
the  form. 

The  Eccentric  State, 

If  the  head  bends  backward  it  is  the  passional  or 
vehement  state. 

The  head  inclined  toward  the  interlocutor,  denotes 
abandon,  confidence. 

The  head  turned  away  from  the  interlocutor,  de- 
notes pride,  noble  or  base.  This  is  a  neutral 
expression  which  says  something,  but  not  the 
whole. 

The  Concentric  State, 

The  head  lowered,  that  is,  inclined  forward,  de- 
notes the  reflective  state. 

If  the  head  inclines  toward  the  interlocutor,  it  is 
veneration,  an  act  of  faith  in  the  object  we  love. 


MOVEMENTS   OF  THE  HEAD.  6/ 

If  the  head  inclines  away  from  the  interlocutor, 
it  is  stratagem  or  suspicion. 

AH  other  attitudes  of  the  head  are  modifications 
of  these.  These  nine  attitudes  characterize  states, 
that  is,  sentiments,  but  sentiments  which  are  fugi- 
tive. Either  of  these  attitudes  may  be  affected 
until  it  becomes  habitual.  But  there  are  movements 
which  cannot  be  habitually  affected,  which  can  only 
modify  types  and  attitudes  of  the  inflections  of  the 
head.     These  ^xo,  fugitive  movements. 

There  are  nine  inflections  or  fugitive  movements 
of  the  head  : — 

1.  If  a  forward  movement,  it  ends  in  an  upright 
one,  with  elevated  chin,  and  indicates  interrogation, 
hope,  appellation,  desire. 

2.  The  same  movement  with  the  chin  lowered, 
indicates  doubt,  resignation. 

3.  A  nod  of  the  head,  a  forward  movement, 
means  confirq^ation,  yes,  or  welL 

4.  If  the  movement  is  brusque  forward,  it  is  the 
menace  of  a*  resolute  man. 

5.  The  head  thrown  back  means  exaltation. 

6.  If  the  movement  is  brusque  backward,  it  is  the 
menace  of  a  weak  man. 

7.  There  are  rotative  inflections  from  one  shoul- 
der to  the  other ;   this  is  impatience,  regret. 

8.  The  rotary  movement  of  the  head  alone  signi- 
fies negation,  that  is  no. 

If  the  movement  ends  toward  the  interlocutor,  it 
is  simple  negation* 


68  GESTURE. 

If  the  movement  ends  opposite  to  him,  it  is  nega- 
tion with  distrust. 

9.  The  rotative  and  forward  inflection  would  de- 
note exaltation. 

The  sense  of  this  response, — "  I  do  not  know," 
when  tidings  of  a  friend  are  asked,  may  be  divined 
by  an  inflection  of  the  head. 

It  is  well  to  note  how  these  movements  are  trans- 
mitted from  agent  to  agent. 

All  movements  which  severally  aflect  the  head, 
the  hand,  the  body  and  the  leg,  may  afl*ect  the  whole. 

Thus  the  movement  of  negation  is  made  by  the 
hand.  This  movement  is  double.  There  is  nega- 
tion with  direct  resolution,  and  negation  with  inverse 
resolution,  which  is  elliptical.  The  hand  recoils  as 
the  head  recoils,  and  when  the  head  makes  the 
movement  of  impatience,  the  hand  rises  with  the 
head  and  says : — "  Leave  me  alone,  I  do  not  wish 
to  hear  you."  • 

It  is  curious  to  see  an  inflection  pass  successively 
from  the  head  to  the  hand,  from  the  hand  to  the 
eye,  from  the  eye  to  the  should^'s,  from  the  shoul- 
ders to  the  arms,  from  the  arms  to  the  legs,  from 
the  legs  to  the  feet. 

For  example :  Above  we  have  indicated  a  double 
menace  made  by  the  head.  One  might  transfer  this 
menace  to  the  hand  and  say:  "You  will  have  a 
quarrel  to  settle  with  me  !" 

Each  agent  has  its  role,  and  this  is  why  they 
transmit  their  movements. 


MOVEMENTS   OF  THE   HEAD.  69 

When  the  head  has  a  serious  part  to  play,  it  com- 
municates an  inflective  movement  to  the  hand,  which 
renders  it  terrible. 

A  man  who  menaces  with  the  head  is  not  sure 
of  his  aim,  but  he  who  menaces  with  the  hand  is 
sure  of  striking  right.  In  order  to  do  this,  the  eye 
must  be  firmly  fixed,  as  the  eye  necessarily  loses 
its  power  and  accuracy  by  a  movement  of  the 
head. 

There  is  great  power  in  the  menace  communica- 
ted to  the  hand,  a  power  not  found  in  the  other 
movement.  The  head-menace  is  more  physical, 
and  the  hand-menace  more  intellectual ;  in  the  one 
the  eye  says  a  great  deal,  while  in  the  other  it  says 
nothing. 

The  orator  cannot  always  make  these  gestures 
with  facility.  The  menace  may  be  elliptical.  Then 
it  must  be  made  by  the  head,  and  expressed  through 
the  eyes.  This  is  why  the  speaker  gazes  downward 
as  he  makes  ^t. 

It  is  the  same  downward  or  upward  movement 
which  is  reproduced  when  the  menace  is  concentric 
or  elliptical. 

The  menace  may  be  made  in  yet  another  way. 
The  speaker  does  not  wish  to  express  his  opinion, 
and  for  fear  of  compromising  himself  with  his  eyes, 
he  does  not  gaze  at  his  interlocutor ;  he  turns  aside 
his  glance,  and  the  menace  is  communicated  to  the 
shoulder.  This  has  less  strength,  because  it  is  ren- 
dered by  one  of  the  sensitive  agents. 


70 


GESTURE 


The  man  who  threatens  with  the  shoulder  is  more 
passionate ;  but  he  is  not  the  agent,  he  is  passive. 

A  simple  menace  may  be  made  by  the  knee. 
The  foot  is  susceptible  of  great  mobility.  A  slight 
movement  quickly  changes  its  significance ;  in  pass- 
ing from  one  agent  to  another,  it  is  modified  by 
many  eUipses. 

Criterion  of  the  Head  Attitudes. 


SPECIES. 

GENUS. 

1 

3 

2 

I-II 

3-n 

2-II 

II 

Ecc.  Cone. 

Norm.  Cone. 

Cone.  Cone. 

Stratagem  or 
cunning. 

Reflection. 

Veneration, 

I-III 

3-in 

2-III 

Hi 

Ecc.  Norm. 

Norm.  Norm. 

Cone.  Norm. 

Sensualism. 

Passive  state. 

Affection. 

I-I 

3-1 

2-1 

I 

Ecc.  Ecc. 

Norm.  Ecc. 

Cone.  Ecc. 

Pride, 

Vehemence. 

Confidence. 

These  attitudes,  being  wholly  characteristic,  can- 
not be  transmitted.     They  characterize  the  special 


OF  THE   EYES.  fl 

r61e  of  the  agent  set  in  motion,  while  inflection  is 
universal. 

The  head  alone  expresses  trouble,  dejection. 

Dejection  is  in  the  head,  as  firmness  is  in  the 
reins  and  exaltation  in  the  shoulders. 

All  the  movements  of  the  head  are  communicated 
to  all  the  active  organs.  The  head  is  always  in 
opposition  to  the  arms.  The  head  must  be  turned 
away  from  the  leg  which  is  advanced. 

Men  of  small  brain  habitually  carry  their  heads 
high.  The  head  is  lowered  in  proportion  to  the 
quantity  of  intelligence. 

Examine  the  criterion  for  the  fixed  attitudes  of 
the  head. 

Of  the  Eyes, 

The  eye,  in  common  with  all  the  other  agents,  has 
nine  primary  expressions,  three  genera  and  nine 
species. 

The  eye  contains  three  agents:  The  optic  or 
visual,  the  palpebral  or  pupil,  and  the  eyebrow 
agent.  Each  of  these  has  its  peculiar  sense,  and 
we  shall  show  how  they  are  united. 

The  optic  agent  has  three  direct  or  convergent 
glances.  The  eyes  converge  toward  the  object  they 
examine,  at  such  a  point  that  if  the  object  were 
there  they  would  squint.  A  skilled  observer  can 
determine  the  distance  of  the  object,  upon  seeing 
the  two  eyes. 

There   is   a   revolving   or  divergent   glance.     If 


72  GESTURE. 

both  eyes  project  in  parallel  lines,  they  see  double. 
A  drunken  man  sees  double  because  the  eyes  do 
not  converge. 

Between  these  two  glances  there  is  the  ecstatic  or 
parallel  vision;  but  the  object  is  not  so  far  away 
that  its  distance  may  not  be  determined.  The  con- 
vergence is  not  appreciable.  This  is  the  dreamy 
expression.  We  shall  here  treat  of  one  only,  to 
which  we  refer  the  three  others.  Let  us  take  the 
direct  glance,  passing  by  the  optic  agent,  since  it  is 
direct  in  all  the  phenomena  we  have  to  consider. 

There  are  three  phenomena  in  the  eyebrow: 
eccentric,  concentric  and  normal.  From  these  we 
derive  nine  terms.  If  the  eye  is  normal,  it  is  a  pas- 
sive expression  which  determines  nothing.  If,  with 
the  same  eye,  the  eyebrow  is  eccentric,  there  is  a 
difference ;  one  part  of  us  tends  vehemently  toward 
something,  and  the  other  says :  "  It  is  not  worth  the 
trouble."  The  sensitive  part  aspires,  while  the  in- 
tellect says,  "  This  amounts  to  nothing." 

The  concentric  eyebrow  indicates  a  mind  discon- 
certed by  fatigue  or  emtui,  a  contention  of  one  part 
of  the  nature  with  the  other,  which  resists,  and  says  : 
"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  troubled  about  this ;  it  wearies 
me." 

The  normal  brow  and  the  eccentric  eye  indicate 
stupor. 

Here  there  is  again  contrariety.  One  part  of  the 
being  ardently  aspires  toward  some  object,  while  the 
other  is  powerless  to  aid  it. 


OF  THE   EYES.  73 

The  eye  is  purely  an  intellectual  agent,  denoting 
the  various  states  of  the  mind. 

The  eccentric  eye  and  the  elevated  eyebrow  de- 
note vehemence.  This  is  an  active  state  that  will 
become  astonishment.  Many  phenomena  will  arise 
and  be  subordinate  to  this  movement;  but  it  is 
vehemence  par  excellence ;  it  is  aspiration. 

If  the  brow  lowers  vehemently  with  the  eyes 
open,  it  is  not  rage,  but  a  state  of  mind  independent 
of  everything  the  senses  or  the  heart  can  say. 

This  is  firmness  of  mind,  a  state  of  the  will  inde- 
pendent of  every  outside  influence.  It  may  be 
attention,  or  anger,  or  many  other  things. 

If  the  eye  is  concentric  and  the  eyebrow  in  the 
normal  state,  it  is  slumber,  fatigue. 

If  the  eyebrow  is  eccentric  and  the  eye  concen- 
tric, it  will  represent  not  indifference  only,  but 
scorn,  and  after  saying,  "This  thing  is  worthless," 
will  add,  '*  I  protest  against  it,  I  close  my  eyes." 

If  both  the  eye  and  eyebrow  are  concentric, 
there  is  contention  of  mind.  This  is  a  mind  which 
seeks  but  does  not  possess. 

This  explanation  may  be  rendered  more  clear  and 
easier  to  retain  in  mind  by  the  following  resume : 

.  C  Concentric.  Contention  of  mind. 

Concentric  eyebrow.  ><  <  Normal.  Bad  humor. 

V  Eccentric.  Firmness. 

.  C  Concentric.  Grief. 

Normal  eyebrow.  >  <  Normal.  Passiveness. 

v  Eccentric.  Stupor. 

.  C  Concentric  Scorn. 

Eccentric  eyebrow,  >  <  Normal.  Disdain. 

C  Eccentric.  Astonishment. 


74 


GESTURE. 


Criterion  of  the  Eyes, 
species.      i  3  2 


i-II.    Ecc.-conc. 


II 


{.c 


3-II.    Norm. -cone. 


Bad  humor. 


2-11.    Cone. -cone. 


Contention  of  mind. 


-III.     Ecc.-norm. 


3-III.     Norm. -norm. 


Ill 


\(^<=^^ 


Stupor. 


2-III.    Cone-norm. 


Grief. 


i-I.    Ece.-exc. 


3-I.     Norm.-ecc. 


Disdain. 


2-1.    Cone.-ecc. 


c 


^^::^\ 


^ 


Scorn. 


OF  THE   EYES. 


75 


The  nine  expressions  of  the  eye  correspond  to 
each  of  the  nine  movements  of  the  head.  Thus  the 
eye  may  give  nine  types  of  affection,  nine  of  pride, 
nine  of  sensuaHsm,  etc.  This  gives  eighty-one  ex- 
pressions of  the  eye.  Hence,  knowing  eighteen 
elements,  we  inevitably  possess  eighty-one. 

The  nine  expressions  of  the  eye  may  be  verified 
by  the  criterion. 

As  a  model,  we  give  the  nine  expressions  of  the 
eye  in  the  subjoined  chart. 


GENUS. 

SPECIES. 

I 
Eye  eccentric. 

3 
Eye  normal. 

2 

Eye  concentric. 

Eyebrow  cone. 
II 

Firmness. 

Bad  humor. 

Contention  of 
mind. 

Eyebrow  norm. 
Ill 

Stupor. 

Passive  state. 

Grief. 

Eyebrow  ecc. 

I 

Inspiration. 

Disdain. 

Scorn. 

For  ordinary  purposes  it  is  sufficient  to  under- 
stand the  nine  primary  expressions.  There  are 
many  others  which  we  merely  indicate.     In  sleep 


J6  GESTURE. 

there  may  be  an  inclination  either  way.  The  top 
of  the  eyebrow  may  be  Hfted. 

Thus  in  the  concentric  state,  three  types  may  be 
noted,  and  these  go  to  make  twenty-seven  primary 
movements.  The  lower  eyelid  may  be  contracted ; 
the  twenty-seven  first  movements  may  be  examined 
with  this,  which  makes  2  X  27. 

A  movement  of  the  cheek  may  contract  the  eye 
in  an  opposite  direction,  and  this  contraction  may 
be  total,  which  makes  eighty-one  expressions  be- 
longing to  the  normal  glance  alone. 

This  direct  glance  may  also  be  direct  on  the  infe- 
rior plane,  which  makes  2X81;  for  these  are  dis- 
tinct expressions  which  cannot  be  confounded. 

This  movement  could  again  be  an  upward  one, 
which  would  make  3X81. 

The  movement  may  be  outward  and  superior,  or 
it  may  be  simply  outward ;  it  may  also  be  outward 
and  inferior.  A  special  sense  is  attached  to  each 
of  these  movements, — a  sense  which  cannot  be  con- 
founded with  any  of  the  preceding  movements. 

By  making  the  same  computation  for  the  three 
glances  above  noted,  we  shall  have  from  eight  to 
nine  hundred  movements. 

All  this  may  appear  complicated,  but  with  the  key 
of  the  primary  movements,  nothing  can  be  more 
simple  than  this  deduction. 

The  above  chart  with  its  exposition  of  the  phases 

'  of  the  eye  explains  everything.     A  small  eye  is  a 

sign  of  strength ;   a  large  eye  is  a  sign  of  languor. 


OF  THE   EYEBROWS.  "JJ 

A  small  oblique  eye  (the  Chinese  eye),  when  asso- 
ciated with  lateral  development  of  the  cranium, 
and  ears  drawn  back,  indicates  a  predisposition  to 
murder. 

The  eye  opens  only  in  the  first  emotion ;  then  it 
becomes  calm,  closing  gradually ;  an  eye  wide  open 
in  emotion,  denotes  stupidity. 

Of  the  Eyebrows,  * 

There  are  three  thermometers:  the  eyebrow  is 
the  thermometer  of  the  mind ;  the  shoulder  is  the 
thermometer  of  the  life;  the  thumb  is  the  ther- 
mometer of  the  will. 

There  is  parallelism  between  the  eye  and  the 
voice.  The  voice  lowered  and  the  brow  lifted, 
indicate  a  desire  to  create  surprise,  and  a  lack  of 
mental  depth. 

It  is  very  important  to  establish  this  parallelism 
between  the  movements  of  the  brow  and  voice. 

The  lowered  brow  signifies  retention,  repulsion : 
it  is  the  signification  of  a  closed  door.  The  eleva- 
ted brow  means  the  open  door.  The  mind  opens 
to  let  in  the  light  or  to  allow  it  to  escape.  The 
eyebrow  is  nothing  less  than  the  door  of  intelli- 
gence. In  falling,  the  voice  repels.  The  efforts  in 
repulsion  and  retention  are  equal. 

The  inflections  are  in  accord  with  the  eyebrows. 
When  the  brows  are  raised,  the  voice  is  raised. 
This  is  the  normal  movement  of  the  voice  in  rela- 
tion to  the  eyebrow. 


78  .  GESTURE. 

Sometimes  the  eyebrow  is  in  contradiction  to  the 
movement  of  the  voice.  Then  there  is  always 
elHpse ;  it  is  a  thought  unexpressed.  The  contra- 
diction between  these  two  agents  always  proves 
that  we  must  seek  in  the  words  which  these  phe- 
nomena modify,  something  other  than  they  seem  to 
say.  For  instance,  when  we  reply  to  a  story  just 
tolcj^us,  with  this  exclamation:   ^'Indeed T' 

If  the  brow  and  voice  are  lowered,  the  case  is 
grave  and  demands  much  consideration. 

If  brow  and  voice  are  elevated,  the  expression  is 
usually  mild,  amiable  and  affectionate. 

If  the  voice  is  raised  and  the  brow  lowered,  the 
form  is  doubtful  and  suspicious.  With  the  brow 
concentric,  the  hand  is  repellent. 

Both  brow  and  hand  concentric  denote  repulsion 
or  retention ;   this  is  always  the  case  with  a  door. 

Both  brow  and  hand  eccentric  mean  inspiration, 
or  allowing  departure  without  concern. 

There  is  homogeneity  between  the  face,  the  eye- 
brow and  the  hand. 

The  degree  and  nature  of  the  emotion  must  be 
shown  in  the  face,  otherwise  there  will  be  only 
grimace. 

The  hand  is  simply  another  expression  of  the 
face.  The  face  gives  the  hand  its  significance. 
Hand  movements  without  facial  expression  would 
be  purely  automatic.  The  face  has  the  first  word, 
the  hand  completes  the  sense.  There  are  eighty- 
one  movements  of  the  hand  impossible  to  the  face ; 


OF  THE  FACE.  79 

hence,  without  the  hand,  the  face  cannot  express 
everything.  The  hand  is  the  detailed  explanation 
of  what  the  face  has  sought  to  say. 

There  are  expressions  of  the  hand  consonant  with 
the  facial  traits,  and  others  dissonant:  this  is  the 
beautiful. 

The  weak  hand  and  the  strong  face  are  the  sign 
of  impotence. 

The  weak  hand  and  the  strong  face  are  the  sign 
of  perfidy. 

The  tones  of  the  voice  vary  according  to  the  ex- 
pression of  the  face.  The  face  must  speak,  it  must 
have  charm. 

In  laughing,  the  face  is  eccentric ;  a  sombre  face 
is  concentric. 

The  face  is  the  mirror  of  the  soul  because  it  is 
the  most  impressionable  agent,  and  consequently 
the  most  faithful  in  rendering  the  impressions  of  the 
soul. 

Not  only  may  momentary  emotions  be  read  in 
the  expression  of  the  features,  but  by  an  inspection 
of  the  conformation  of  the  face,  the  aptitude, 
thoughts,  character  and  individual  temperament 
may  be  determined. 

The  difference  in  faces  comes  from  difference  in 
the  configuration  of  profiles. 

There  are  three  primitive  and  characteristic  pro- 
files, of  which  all  others  are  only  derivations  or 
shades.  There  is  the  upright,  the  concave  and  the 
convex  profile.     Each  of  these   genera  must  pro- 


8o  GESTURE. 

duce  three  species,  and  this  gives  again  the  accord 
of  nine. 

These  different  species  arise  from  the  direction 
of  the  angles,  as  also  from  the  position  of  the  lips 
and  nose. 

Uprightness  responds  to  the  perpendicular  pro- 
file;  chastity,  to  the  concave;  sensuaHsm,  to  the 
convex. 

Let  it  be  understood  that  we  derogate  In  no  way 
from  the  liberty  of  the  man  who  remains  always 
master  of  his  will,  his  emotions  and  his  inclinations. 

A  criterion  of  the  face  is  indispensable  to  the 
intelligent  physiognomist,  and  as  the  lips  and  nose 
have  much  to  do  with  the  expression  of  the  face, 
we  offer  an  unerring  diagnosis  in  the  three  following 
charts : 


Of  the  lips. 


8i 


Criterion  of  the  Profile  of  the  Lips, 
species.      i  3  2 


I-II 

3-n 

2-II 

f 

y 

>- 

Ecc.-conc. 

Norm. -cone. 

Cone. -cone. 

I-III 

3-ni 

2-III 

<r 

— 

f 

Ecc.-norm. 

Norm.-norm. 

Cone.-norna. 

I-I 

3-1 

2-1 

f 

v 

^ 

Ecc.-ecc. 

Norm.-ecc. 

Conc.-eec. 

Here  the  profile  of  the  lower  lip  indicates  the  genus,  and  the  pro- 
file of  the  upper  lip  belongs  to  the  species. 


82 


GESTURE. 


Criterion  of  the  Profile  of  the  Nose. 

SPECIES.        X  3  2 


III 


i-n. 

4 

Ecc-conc 

3-11. 

4 

2-II. 

Conc-oonc. 

i-III. 

i 

Ecc.-norm. 

3-ni. 

I 

Norm.-norm. 

2-III. 

Conc-nornu 

i-I. 
Ect-ecc. 

3-1. 

^-> 

Norm.-ecc. 

2-1. 

Conc-ecc. 

O 

For  surety  of  diagnosis  the  lips  must'  be  taken  in  unison  with  the  nose  and  fore- 
head, as  may  be  seen  in  the  following  chart. 


Criterion  of  the  Face. 

SPECIES.        1  3  .2 


III 


II.    Ecc.-conc  3-11-    Norm  -cone.  *-II.    Cone. -cone. 


x-III.    Ecc.-norm. 


i-I.    £c&-ecc 


Sensual 
type. 


Normal 
type. 


3-1.    Norm.-ecc. 


3-1 1 1.    Cone. -norm 


a-I.    Conc.-ecc. 


-■0      ''t> 


CHAPTER  VL 

OF  THE   TORSO. 

The  torso  includes  the  chest,  and  shares  the 
shoulder  movements  with  the  arms. 

The  Chest. — There  are  three  chest  attitudes,  eccen- 
tric, concentric  and  normal. 

1.  If  the  chest  is  greatly  dilated,  this  is  the 
eccentric  state — the  military  attitude,  the  sign  of 
energy. 

2.  The  normal,  when  the  chest  is  in  a  state  more 
homogeneous,  less  contentious,  more  sympathetic, 
as  in  the  statue  of  Antinous. 

3.  The  concentric,  when  the  chest  is  hollow,  with 
the  shoulders  elevated  and  inclining  forward. 

The  convex  eccentric  chest  is  the  sign  of  the 
agent,  or  of  him  who  gives. 

The  convex  concentric  chest  or  the  pathetic,  is 
the  sign  of  the  sufferer,  or  of  him  who  receives. 

The  chest  drawn  in  with  the  shoulders  elevated, 
is  the  expression  of  the  subhme. 

From  these  three  positions,  the  eccentric,  the  con- 
centric and  the  normal,  are  derived  nine  degrees  or 
species.  Thus  in  each  of  these  genera,  the  torso  is 
inclined  toward  the  speaker,  or  away  from  him, 
hence  we  have  three  times  three,  or  nine,  or  the 
triple  accord. 


OF  THE  TORSO.  85 

The  chest  need  not  be  lowered ;  it  is  here  that  all 
the  energy  concentrates. 

The  Shoulders. —  Every  sensitive,  agreeable  or 
painful  form  is  expressed  by  an  elevation  of  the 
shoulders.  The  shoulders  are  the  thermometer  of 
the  sensitive  and  passional  life.  If  a  man's  shoul- 
ders are  raised  very  decidedly,  we  may  know  that 
he  is  decidedly  impressed. 

The  head  tells  us  whether  this  impression  is  joy- 
ous or  sorrowful.  Then  the  species  belongs  to  the 
head,  and  the  genus  to  the  shoulder. 

If  the  shoulder  indicates  thirty  degrees,  the 
head  must  say  whether  it  is  warmth  or  cold- 
ness. The  face  will  specify  the  nature  of  the  sor- 
row or  joy  whose  value  the  shoulders  have  deter- 
mined. 

The  shoulder  is  one  of  the  great  powers  of  the 
orator. 

By  a  simple  movement  of  the  shoulder,  he  can 
make  infinitely  more  impression  than  with  all  the 
outward  gestures  which  are  almost  always  theatrical, 
and  not  of  a  convincing  sort. 

The  shoulder,  we  have  said,  is  the  thermometer 
of  emotion  and  of  love.  The  movement  is  neutral 
and  suited  to  joy  as  well  as  to  sorrow;  the  eyes 
and  mouth  are  present  to  specify  it. 

The  shoulder,  like  all  the  agents,  has  three  and 
hence  nine  distinct  phases. 

The  torso  is  divided  into  three  parts :  the  thoracic, 
the  epigastric  and  abdominal. 


86  GESTURE. 

We  shall  state  farther  on,  the  role  of  these  three 
important  centres. 

Liars  do  not  elevate  their  shoulders  to  the  re- 
quired degree,  hence  the  truth  or  falsity  of  a  senti- 
ment may  be  known. 

Raphael  has  forgotten  this  principle  in  his 
"  Moses  Smiting  the  Rock."  None  of  his  figures, 
although  joyous,  elevate  the  shoulder. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  THE   LIMBS. 

The  limbs  hold  an  important  place  in  oratorical 
action. 

The  study  of  the  role  of  the  arms  and  limbs 
therefore  deserves  serious  attention. 

The  Arms, 

In  the  arms  we  distinguish  the  deltoid  or  shoulder 
movement,  the  inflection  of  the  fore-arm,  the  elbow, 
the  wrist,  the  hand  and  the  fingers. 

Inflections  of  the  Fore- Arm, 

We  have  treated  of  what  concerns  the  shoulder 
in  the  chapter  upon  the  torso. 

The  arm  has  three  movements :  an  upward  and 
downward  vertical  movement,  and  a  horizontal 
one. 

These  movements  derive  their  significance  from 
the  different  angles  formed  by  the  fore-arm  in 
relation  to  the  arm.  Let  us  first  represent  these 
different  angles,  and  then  we  will  explain  the 
chart 


88 


All  these  different  angles  have  their  meaning, 
their  absolute  significance  in  affirmation. 

The  movement  at  the  right  angle  signifies :  To  be. 

Lower:   Perhaps. 

Lower  still :   I  doubt  if  it  is  so. 

Lower :  It  is  improbable. 

Lower:   It  is  not. 

Lower :  It  is  not  possible. 

Ascending :  This  is  proven,  I  have  the  proof  in 
my  hand. 

Higher :  This  is  superlatively  beautiful. 

Higher :   It  is  enchantingly  beautiful. 

The  degree  of  certainty  in  the  affirmation  varies 


OF  THE   ELBOW.  89 

with  the  angle  which  the  fore-arm  forms  with  the 
arm. 

All  these  modes  of  affirmation  may  be  applied  to 
negation.     For  example : 

**  It  is  impossible  that  this  should  not  be.  This 
cannot  be." 

Thus  all  states  of  being,  all  forms  of  affirmation, 
belong  to  the  acuteness  or  opening  of  an  angle. 

The  hanging  arm  signifies  depression.  The  two 
arms  should  never  extend  the  same  way.  If  they 
follow  each  other,  one  should  be  more  advanced 
than  the  other.  Never  allow  parallelism.  The  ele- 
mentary gestures  of  the  arms  are  represented  in  the 
foregoing  chart. 

Of  the  Elbow. 

The  elbow  has  nine  movements,  three  primitive, 
as  genera,  and  nine  derivative,  as  species.  There  are 
the  forward  and  backward  movements  of  the  normal 
state.  There  are  three  degrees  of  height,  and  finally 
the  forward  and  backward  movements  of  extension. 

The  elbow  movements  are  relational.  The  epi- 
condyle  is  called  the  eye  of  the  arm. 

Man  sHghtly  moves  the  torso,  then  the  shoulder, 
and  finally  the  elbow. 

Among  persons  who  would  fain  crush  others, 
there  is  an  elbow  movement  which  seems  to  say,  *'  I 
annihilate  thee,  I  am  above  thee." 

The  elbow  turned  outward  signifies  strength,  pow- 
er,   audacity,    domination,    arrogance,    abruptness, 


90  GESTURE. 

activity,  abundance.  The  elbow  drawn  inward, 
signifies  impotence,  fear,  subordination,  humility, 
passiveness,  poverty  of  spirit. 

Modest  people  have  a  slight  outward  movement 
of  the  elbow.  The  humble  make  an  inward  move- 
ment. The  elbow  thrust  forward  or  backward,  indi- 
cates a  yielding  character. 

These  movements  should  not  be  taken  alone; 
they  must  be  verified  by  the  torso  and  the  head. 
The  shoulder  characterizes  the  expression  of  the 
elbow  movements,  just  as  the  elbow  verifies  marked 
exaltation,  by  the  elevation  of  the  shoulder. 

It  is  by  these  little  things  that  we  determine  mil- 
lions of  movements  and  their  meaning.  We  finally 
determine  and  class  precisely  five  million  move- 
ments of  the  different  agents  of  the  arm.  This 
would  seem  enormous ;  but  It  Is  nothing  at  all ;  it 
Is  childlike  simplicity.  The  elements  being  known, 
the  process  Is  always  the  same.  Hence  the  advan- 
tage of  possessing  a  criterion.  With  this  criterion, 
we  have  everything.  If  we  possess  nine,  we  possess 
twenty  millions,  which  are  no  more  than  nine. 

Of  the  Wrist. 

The  wrist  is  a  directing  Instrument  for  the  fore- 
arm and  the  hand. 

The  wrist  has  Its  three  movements. 

It  is  eccentric  when  the  extensor  muscles  are  In 
motion. 

It  Is  normal  In  the  horizontal  position. 


OF  THE   HAND.  9 1 

It  IS  concentric  when  the  flexor  muscles  are  in 
action. 

In  the  concentric  position  the  wrist  is  in  prona- 
tion, for  the  thumb  is  turned  downward ;  this  is  the 
sign  of  a  powerful  will,  because  the  pronator  muscles 
have  more  power  than  the  flexors. 

In  the  eccentric  position  the  wrist  is  in  supination  ; 
that  is,  the  back  of  the  hand  is  downward ;  this  is 
the  sign  of  impotence. 

The  wrist  has  also  forward  and  backward  move- 
ments, either  in  pronation,  in  supination,  or  the  nor- 
mal state.     Thus  there  are  nine  phases  for  the  wrist. 

It  Is  through  the  aid  of  the  wrist  that  the  aspects 
of  the  hand,  placed  upon  the  cube,  receive,  as  we 
shall  see,  their  precise  signification. 

The  orator  needs  great  suppleness  in  wrist  move- 
ments to  give  grace  to  the  phases  of  the  hand. 

Of  the  Hand. 

Man  IS  perforce  painter,  poet,  inspired  dreamer 
or  mystic,  and  scientist. 

He  is  a  painter,  to  reveal  the  phenomena  of  the 
sensitive  life;  a  poet,  to  admire  the  mysteries  of 
grace ;  a  scientist,  to  make  known  the  conceptions 
of  the  mind.  Thus  the  hand  has  three  presenta- 
tions, neither  more  nor  less,  to  render  that  which 
passes  in  man  in  the  sensitive,  moral  or  intellectual 
state. 

Let  us  now  examine  the  three  presentations  of  an 
open  hand :   its  palmar,  dorsal  and  digital  aspect. 


92  GESTURE. 

The  same  thing  may  be  expressed  by  these  three 
presentations,  but  with  shades  of  difference  in  the 
meaning. 

If  we  say  that  a  thing  is  admirable,  with  the 
palms  upward,  it  is  to  describe  it  perfectly.  This  is 
the  demonstrative  aspect. 

If  we  say  the  same  thing,  displaying  the  back  of 
the  hand,  it  is  with  the  sentiment  of  impotence. 
We  have  an  idea  of  the  thing,  but  it  is  so  beautiful 
we  cannot  express  it.     This  is  the  mystic  aspect. 

If  we  present  the  digital  extremity,  it  is  as  if  we 
said:  "I  have  seen,  I  have  weighed,  I  have  num- 
bered the  thing,  I  understand  it  from  certain  knowl- 
edge; it  is  admirable,  and  I  declare  it  so."  These 
are  the  three  aspects:  the  palmar,  dorsal  and  dig- 
ital. 

Each  of  these  attitudes  of  the  hand  may  be  pre- 
sented under  three  forms :  the  eccentric,  normal  and 
concentric. 

Each  of  these  forms  as  genera,  produces  three 
species ;  this  gives  the  hand  nine  intrinsic  attitudes, 
whose  neutral  signification  will  be  specified  and  de- 
termined by  the  presentation  of  the  hand  upon  the 
cube. 

Let  us  first  take  the  normal  state  as  genus,  and 
we  shall  have  the  normal  hand  as  species  in  the 
normal  genus.  This  will  then  be  the  normo-normal 
attitude. 

By  presenting  the  hand  in  pronation  or  supination 
horizontally,  without  spreading  or  folding  the  fin- 


OF  THE   HAND.  93 

gers,  we  shall  have  that  attitude  which  signifies 
abandon. 

Let  us  now  take  the  eccentric  species,  still  in  the 
normal  genus. 

Raise  the  hand  somewhat  with  a  slight  parting  of 
the  fingers,  and  we  have  the  eccentro-normal  hand, 
which  signifies  expansion. 

Finally,  let  us  consider  the  concentric  species,  still 
in  the  normal  state. 

Present  the  hand  lifeless  and  you  have  the  con- 
centro-normal  attitude,  which  signifies  prostration. 

Let  us  pass  on  to  the  concentric  genus. 

By  closing  the  fingers  with  the  thumb  inward 
upon  the  middle  one,  we  shall  have  the  normo-con- 
centric  hand,  which  signifies  the  tonic  or  power. 

To  close  the  hand  and  place  the  thumb  outside 
upon  the  index  finger,  signifies  conflict.  This  is  the 
concentro-concentric  hand. 

To  bend  the  first  joint  with  the  fingers  somewhat 
apart,  indicates  the  eccentro-concentric  hand.  This 
is  the  convulsive  state. 

Let  us  pass  on  to  the  eccentric  genus. 

The  fingers  somewhat  spread,  denote  the  normo- 
eccentric  hand.     This  is  exaltation. 

To  spread  the  fingers  and  fold  them  to  the 
second  joint,  indicates  the  concentro-concentric 
hand.     This  is  retraction. 

To  spread  the  fingers  as  much  as  possible,  gives 
the  eccentro-eccentric  hand.     This  Is  exasperation. 

In  the  subjoined  charts  we  can  see  an  illustration 
of  the  different  attitudes  of  the  hand. 


94 


OESTURE. 


Criterion  of  the  Hand, 
species.      i  ->  2 


i-II.     tec. -cone. 


Convulsive. 


I-II  I.    Ecc.-norm. 


Expansive. 


i-I     £cc-ecc. 


Exasperation. 


3-II.     Norm. -cone. 


Tonic  or  power. 


3-III,     Norm.-norra. 


Abandon. 


3-I.    Nonn.'ccc 


Exaltation. 


2-1 1.     Cone. -cone. 


Conflict. 


3-III.    Cone. -norm. 


Prostration. 


a-I.    Conc.-ecc.i 


Retraction. 


OF  THE  HAND. 


9S 


RECAPITULATION. 
Concentro-concentric. 
Normo-concentric. 
Eccentro-concentric. 
Concentro-normal. 
Normo-normal. 
Eccentro-normal. 
Concentro-eccentric. 
Normo-eccentric. 
Eccentro-eccentric. 


Conflict. 

Tonic  or  power. 

Convulsive. 

Prostration. 

Abandon. 

Expansion. 

Retraction. 

Exaltation. 

Exasperation. 


The  nine  primitive  forms  of  the  hand  are,  as  is 
seen,  undetermined. 


/ 

- 

Upper  Surface. 

/ 

/ 

To  hold. 

/ 

\ 

Front  Surface. 

8 

To  retain. 

Limit             

Obtam.              1 

Back  Surface. 

ll 

§ 

1         To  maintain. 

Contain.            1 

% 

\ 

/ 

Lower  Surface. 

/ 

/ 

To  sustain. 

/ 

The  hand  is  raised.  Why?  For  what  purpose? 
The  presentation  of  the  hand  upon  the  surfaces  of 
the  cube  will  decide  and  specify. 


g6  GESTURE. 

By  this  presentation  the  nine  movements  of  the 
hand  correspond  with  the  expressive  movements  of 
the  arm. 

Take  any  cube  whatever, —  a  book,  a  snuff-box, 
or  rather  cast  your  eyes  upon  the  foregoing  chart, 
and  examine  it  carefully. 

There  are  three  directions  in  the  cube :  horizon- 
tal, vertical  and  transverse.  Hence  there  are  six 
faces,  anterior,  superior,  inferior,  interno-lateral  and 
externo-lateral. 

Of  what  use  are  angles  and  faces?  All  this  is 
necessary  for  those  who  would  know  the  reason 
of  the  sentiments  expressed  by  the  hand.  There 
are  twenty-seven  sorts  of  affirmation.  We  give  nine 
of  them  with  the  six  faces  of  the  cube. 

T/ie  Digital  Face. 

To  place  the  hand,  whether  eccentric,  concentric 
or  normal,  upon  the  upper  face  of  the  cube,  is  to 
hold,  to  protect,  to  control;  it  is  to  say:  *' I  hold 
this  under  my  protection." 

To  place  the  hand  upon  the  external  side-face  of 
the  cube,  signifies  to  belong ;  it  says :  ''All  this  be- 
longs to  me."  It  is  the  affirmation  of  the  man  who 
knows,  who  has  had  the  thing  in  dispute  under  his 
own  eyes,  who  has  measured  it,  examined  it  in  all 
its  aspects.     It  is  the  affirmation  of  the  connoisseur. 

To  apply  the  hand  to  the  inner  side  of  the  face  is 
to  let  go.  Here  is  the  sense  of  this  affirmation: 
"  You   may  say  whatever  you  will,  but  I   affirm  in 


OF  THE  HAND.  9/ 

spite  of  every  observation,  in  spite  of  all  objection ; 
I  affirm  whether  or  no." 

The  Back  Face, 

There  are  three  ways  of  touching  the  front  face 
of  the  cube  with  the  hand. 

A. — ^To  touch  it  with  the  end  of  the  fingers  up- 
ward and  the  thumb  inward,  is  to  obtain :  "  I  have 
obtained  great  benefits,  I  do  not  know  how  to  ex- 
press my  gratitude."  Or  rather :  "  I  keep  the 
object  for  myself;  I  do  not  care  to  let  it  be  seen." 
This  is  the  mystic  face.  Or  yet  again :  "  I  contem- 
plate." 

B. — ^To  place  the  hand  horizontally  on  the  same 
face  of  the  cube,  is  to  restrain,  or  bound.  "  Go  no 
farther,  if  you  please ;   all  this  belongs  to  me." 

C. — ^To  place  the  hand  upon  the  same  anterior 
face  of  the  cube,  but  with  the  extremities  of  the 
fingers  vertically  downward,  means  to  retain.  It 
says :  "  I  reserve  this  for  myself."  Here,  then, 
are  three  aspects  for  the  anterior  face  of  the  cube. 

The  Palmar  Face, 

A, — ^To  place  the  lower  face  of  the  cube  in  the 
hand,  is  to  sustain.  It  is  to  say :  "  I  n^ill  sustain 
you  in  misfortune." 

B. — To  apply  as  much  as  possible  the  palm  upon 
the  same  posterior  face  of  the  cube,  with  the  fingers 
downward,  is  to  maintain :  *'  I  maintain  what  I  have 
said."- 

C. — ^To  apply  the  hand  upon  the  same  face  with 
7 


98  GESTURE. 

the  extre^nitles  of  the  fingers  upward,  is  to  con- 
tain, is  to  show  the  object  —  it  is  to  disclose:  "I 
affirm;  you  cannot  doubt  me;  I  open  my  heart; 
behold  me  !" 

There  are,  then,  nine  affirmations,  which  are  ex- 
plained by  a  mere  view  of  the  cube  and  its  faces. 

The  twelve  edges  of  the  cube  give  a  double  affir- 
mation ;  the  angles,  a  triple  affirmation.  Example 
for  the  edges :  To  place  the  hand  on  the  back  edge, 
means  :   "  I  protect  and  I  demonstrate." 

There  are  three  movements  or  inflections  of  the 
hand  which  must  be  pointed  out :  to  hover,  to  insin- 
uate, to  envelop. 

The  three  rhythmic  actions  of  the  hand  must  not 
be  passed  over  in  silence :  to  incline,  to  fall,  to  be 
precipitated. 

The  aspects  of  the  hands  would  be  simply  tele- 
graphic movements,  were  it  not  for  the  inflections 
of  the  voice,  and,  above  all,  the  expression  of  the 
eyes.  The  expressions  of  the  hand  correspond  to 
the  voice.  The  hands  are  the  last  thing  demanded 
in  a  gesture ;  but  they  must  not  remain  motionless, 
as  (if  they  were  stiff",  for  instance)  they  might  say 
more  than  was  necessary. 

The  hands  are  clasped  in  adoration,  for  it  seems 
as  if  we  held  the  thing  we  love,  that  we  desire. 

The  rubbing  of  the  hands  denotes  joy,  or  an 
eager  thirst  for  action ;  in  the  absence  of  anything 
else  to  caress,  we  take  the  hand,  we  communicate 
our  joy  to  it. 


OF  THE   FINGERS.  99 

There  is  a  difference  between  the  caress  and  the 
rubbing  of  the  hands. 

In  the  caress,  the  hand  extends  eagerly,  and 
passes  Hghtly,  undulatingly,  for  fear  of  harming. 
There  is  an  elevation  of  the  shoulders. 

The  hand  is  an  additional  expression  of  the  face. 
The  movement  must  begin  with  the  face,  the  hand 
only  completes  and  interprets  the  facial  expression. 
The  head  and  hand  cannot  act  simultaneously  to 
express  the  same  sentiment.  One  could  not  say  no 
with  head  and  hands  at  the  same  time.  The  head 
commands  and  precedes  the  movement  of  the  hand. 

The  eyes,  and  not  the  head,  may  be  parallel  with 
the  hand  and  the  other  agents. 

The  hand  with  its  palm  upward  may  be  caressing, 
if  there  is  an  elevation  of  the  eyebrow;  repellent 
with  the  eyebrow  concentric. 

The  waving  hand  may  have  much  sense,  accord- 
ing to  the  expression  of  the  face. 

The  eye  is  the  essential  agent,  the  hand  is  only 
the  reverberatory  agent;  hence  it  must  show  less 
energy  than  the  eye. 

Of  the  Fingers, 

Each  finger  has  its  separate  function,  but  it  is 
exclusive  of  the  great  expressions  which  constitute 
the  accords  of  nine.  These  are  interesting  facts, 
but  they  do  not  spring  naturally  from  the  fountain 
of  gesture.     They  are  more  intellectual  than  moral 


lOO  GESTURE. 

In  a  synthetic  action  all  the  fingers  converge.  A 
very  energetic  will  Is  expressed  by  the  clenched  fist. 

In  dealing  with  a  fact  in  detail,  as  we  say: 
*' Remark  this  well,"  all  the  fingers  open  to  bid  us 
concern  ourselves  only  with  the  part  in  dispute. 
This  is  analysis ;   it  is  not  moral,  it  is  intellectual. 

If  we  speak  of  condensation  we  close  the  hand. 
If  we  have  to  do  with  a  granulated  object,  we  test  it 
with  the  thumb  and  index  finger. 

If  it  is  carneous,  we  touch  it  with  the  thumb  and 
middle  finger. 

If  the  object  is  fluid,  delicate,  impressionable,  we 
express  it  by  the  third  finger. 

If  it  Is  pulverized,  we  touch  it  with  the  little 
finger. 

We  change  the  finger  as  the  body  Is  solid,  humid, 
delicate,  or  powdery. 

The  orator  who  uses  the  fingers  in.  gesticulation, 
gives  proof  of  great  dehcacy  of  mind. 

Of  the  Legs. 

The  legs  have  nine  positions  which  we  call  base 
attitudes. 

We  shall  give  a  detailed  description,  summing  up 
in  a  chart  of  the  criterion  of  the  legs  at  the  end  of 
this  section. 

First  Attitude. — This  consists  in  the  equal  balance 
of  the  body  upon  its  two  legs.  It  is  that  of  a  child 
posed  upon  its  feet,  neither  of  which  extends  farther 
than  the  other.     This  attitude  is  normal,  and  is  the 


OF  THE   LEGS.  lOI 

sign  of  weakness,  of  respect ;    for  respect  is  a  sort 

I 


of  weakness  for  the  person  we  address.      It  also 
characterizes  infancy,  decay. 

Second  Attitude, — In  this  attitude  the  strong  leg  is 
backward,  the  free  one  forward.  This  is  the  attitude 
of  reflection,  of  concentration,  of  the  strong  man. 


It  indicates  the  absence  of  passions,  or  of  concen- 
tred passions.      It  has  something  of  intelligence; 


102 


GESTURE. 


it  is  neither  the  position  of  the  child  nor  of  the 
uncultured  man.  It  indicates  calmness,  strength, 
independence,  which  are  signs  of  intelligence.  It  is 
the  concentric  state. 

Third  Attitude. — Here  the  strong  leg  is  forward, 
the  free  leg  backward.  This  is  the  type  of  vehe- 
mence.    It  is  the  eccentric  attitude.    - 


The  orator  who  would  appear  passive,  that  is,  as 
experiencing  some  emotion,  or  submitting  to  some 
action,  must  have  a  backward  pose  as  in  figure  2. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  he  would  communicate  to  his 
audience  the  expression  of  his  will  or  of  his  own 
thought,  he  must  have  a  forward  poise  as  in  figure  3. 

Fourth  Attitude. — Here  the  strong  leg  is  behind, 
as  in  the  second  attitude,  but  far  more  apart  from 
the  other  and  more  inflected. 

This  is  very  nearly  the   attitude   of  the   fencing 


OF  THE  LEGS. 


103 


master,  except  the   position   of  the  foot,  which  is 
straight  instead  of  being  turned  outward. 


This  is  a  sign  of  the  weakness  which  follows 
vehemence. 

Natural  weakness  is  portrayed  in  figure  i ;  sud- 
den weakness  in  figure  4. 

Fifth  Attitude. — This  is  necessitated  by  the  incli- 
nation of  the  torso  to  one  side  or  the  other.     It  is 


104 


GESTURE. 


a  third  to  one  side.  It  is  a  passive  attitude,  pre- 
paratory to  all  oblique  steps.  It  is  passing  or  transi- 
tive, and  ends  all  the  angles  formed  by  walking.  It 
is  in  frequent  use  combined  with  the  second. 

Sixth  Attitude. — This  is  one-third  crossed.  It  is 
an  attitude  of  great  respect  and  ceremony,  and  is 
effective  only  in  the  presence  of  princes. 


Seventh  Attitude. — This  is  the  first  position,  but 
the  legs  are  farther  apart.     The  free  limb  is  turned 


l¥ 


OF  THE  LEGS.  105 

to  one  ride ;  both  limbs  are  strong.  This  denotes 
intoxication,  the  man  overwhelmed  with  astonish- 
ment, famiHarity,  repose.     It  is  a  double  fifth. 

Eighth  Attitude. — This  is  the  second,  with  limbs 
farther  apart.  It  is  the  alternative  attitude.  The 
body  faces  one  of  the  two  legs.  It  is  alternative 
from  the  fact  that  it  ends  in  the  expression  of  two 


extreme  and  opposite  sentiments;  that  is,  in  the 
third  or  the  fourth.  It  serves  for  eccentricity  with 
reticence,  for  menace  and  jealousy.  It  is  the  type 
of  hesitation.  It  is  a  parade  attitude.  At  the  same 
time  offensive  and  defensive,  its  aspect  easily  im- 
presses and  leaves  the  auditor  in  doubt.  What  is 
going  to  happen  ?  What  sentiment  is  going  to  arise 
from  this  attitude  which  must  have  its  solution 
either  in  the  third  or  fourth  ? 

Ninth  Attitude. — This  is  a  stiff  second  attitude, 
in  which  the  strong  leg  and  also  the  free  one  are 


io6 


GESTURE. 


equally  rigid.     The   body    in    this    attitude   bends 
backward ;   it  is  the  sign  of  distrust  and  scorn. 


The  legs  have  one  aspect.  If,  in  the  second,  the 
strong  leg  advances  slowly  to  find  the  other,  it  is  the 
tiger  about  to  leap  upon  his  prey ;  if,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  free  leg  advances  softly,  the  vengeance  is 
retarded. 

The  menace  made  in  figure  3,  with  inclination  of 
the  head  and  agitation  of  the  index  finger,  is  that 
of  a  valet  who  wishes  to  play  some  ill  turn  upon  his 
master;  for  with  the  body  bent  and  the  arm  ad- 
vanced, there  is  no  intelligence.  But  it  is  ill-suited 
to  vengeance,  because  that  attitude  should  be  strong 
and  solid,  with  the  eye  making  the  indication  better 
than  the  finger. 


Criterion 


SPECIES. 


i-II. — Ecc.-conc. 


9th  attitude. — Defiance. 


3-II. — Norm. -cone. 


2d  attitude — Force 


III  — Ecc  -norm. 


7th  attitude. — Intoxication. 


i-I. — Ecc. -ecc. 


3d  attitude. — Vehemence. 


3-III. 


THE  Legs. 


Page  io6. 


3-1 1. — Cone,  -cone 


4th  attitude. — Terror. 


tn.-norm. 


/     / 
/ 


Childhood. 


a-III. — Cone. -norm. 


8th  attitude. — Hesitation. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
OF  THE  SEMEIOTIC,  OR  THE   REASON  OF  GESTURE. 

The  Types  which  Characterize  Gesture. 

The  semeiotic  is  the  science  of  signs,  and  hence 
the  science  of  the  form  of  gesture.  Its  object  is  to 
give  the  reason  for  the  forms  of  gesture  according 
to  the  types  that  characterize  it,  the  apparatus  that 
modifies  it,  and  the  figures  that  represent  it. 

There  are  three  sorts  of  types  in  man :  constitu- 
tional or  formal,  fugitive  or  passional,  and  habitual. 

The  constitutional  type  is  that  which  we  have  at 
birth. 

The  passional  type  is  that  which  is  reproduced 
under  the  sway  of  passion. 

The  habitual  types  are  those  which,  frequently 
reproduced,  come  to  modify  even  the  bones  of  the 
man,  and  give  him  a  particular  constitution. 

Habit  is  a  second  nature,  in  fact,  a  habitual 
movement  fashions  the  material  and  physical  being 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  create  a  type  not  inborn, 
and  which  is  named  habitual. 

To  recognize  constitutional  types,  we  study  the 
movements  of  the  body,  and  the  profound  action 
which  the  habit  of  these  movements  exercises  upon 
the  body;  and,  as  the  type  produced  by  these 
movements  is  in  perfect  analogy  with  the  formal, 


I08  GESTURE. 

constitutional  types,  we  come  through  this  analogy' 
to  infer  constant  phenomena  from  the  passional 
form.  Thus  all  the  formal  types  are  brought  back 
to  the  passional  types. 

Passional  types  explain  habitual  types,  and  these 
last  explain  constitutional  types.  Thus,  when  we 
know  the  sum  of  movements  possible  to  an  organ, 
when  we  know  the  sense  of  it,  we  arrive  at  that 
semeiotic  through  which  the  reason  of  a  form  is  per- 
fectly given. 

Of  Gesture  Relative  to  its  Modifying  Apparatus. 

Every  gesture  places  itself  in  relation  with  the 
subject  and  the  object. 

It  is  rare  that  a  movement  tending  toward  an 
object  does  not  touch  the  double  form.  Thus,  in 
saying  that  a  thing  is  admirable,  we  start  from  a 
multitude  of  physical  centres  whose  sense  we  are  to 
determine.  When  this  sense  is  known,  understand- 
ing the  point  of  departure,  we  understand  still  better 
that  of  arrival. 

This  division,  which  is  not  made  at  random,  is 
reproduced  in  the  subjoined  diagram. 

I  represents  the  vital  expression;  2,  the  intel- 
lectual; 3,  the  moral.  We  divide  the  face  into 
three  zones :   the  genal,*  buccal,  and  frontal. 

The  expression  is  physical,  moral  and  intellectual. 

In  the  posterior  section  of  the  head  we  have  the 

*  From  yiv£LOV,  the  chin. 


DIVISIONS    OF  THE  BODY. 


109 


occipital,  parietal  and  temporal  zones.     The  life  is 
in  the  occiput,  the  soul  in  the  parietal  zone,  and  the 


mind  holds  the  temporal  region  near  the  forehead 
as  its  inalienable  domicile. 

The  chest  is  divided  into  the  thoracic  centre  for 
the  mind,  into  the  epigastric  for  the  soul,  and  into 
the  abdominal  for  the  life. 

The  arm  is  divided  into  three  sections :  the  del- 
toid, brachial  and  carpal. 

This  division  is  a  rational  one.  Let  us  suppose 
this  exclamation :  ''  It  is  admirable  !  "  Some  say  it 
starting  from  the  shoulder,  others  from  the  chest, 
others  from  the  abdominal  focus.  These  are  three 
very  distinct  modes.  There  is  more  intelligence 
when  the  movement  is  from  the  thoracic  centre. 
This  concerns  the  honor,  the  dignity. 

When  the  movement  is  from  the  epigastrium,  it  is 


no  .  GESTURE. 

moral  in  a  high  degree.  For  example:  "This  is 
beautiful !  It  is  admirable !  I  know  not  why,  but 
this  gives  me  pleasure  !  " 

The  movement  from  the  abdomen  indicates  sen- 
suality, good  nature,  and  stupidity. 

The  movement  is  the  same  with  the  head.  In 
emotion  it  proceeds  from  the  chin;  it  is  the  Hfe 
movement,  it  is  instinct.  That  from  the  cheeks,  in- 
dicates sentiments,  the  most  noble  affections. 

Carrying  the  hand  to  the  forehead  indicates  intel- 
ligence. Here  we  seek  relief  from  embarrassment, 
in  the  other  head  movements  we  do  not  seek  it. 
The  one  is  a  mental,  the  others  are  purely  physical 
efforts.  In  the  latter  case  one  becomes  violent  and 
would  fain  give  blows  with  his  fist. 

An  infinite  number  of  movements  proceed  from 
these  various  seats. 

We  have  now  reached  the  semeiotic  standpoint, 
that  of  these  very  clear  plans,  the  very  starting 
point  of  gesture. 

The  articular  centres  of  the  arms  are  called  ther- 
mometers :  the  wrist,  that  of  the  organic  physical 
life;  the  shoulder,  that  of  the  sensitive  life;  and 
the  elbow,  that  of  the  relative  life. 

The  thumb  has  much  expression;  drawn  back- 
A^ard  it  is  a  symbol  of  death,  drawn  forward  it  is  the 
sign  of  life.  Where  there  is  abundance  of  life,  the 
thumb  stands  out  from  the  hand.  If  a  friend 
promises  me  a  service  with  the  thumb  drawn  inward, 
he  deceives.     If  with  the  thumb  in  the  normal  state, 


DIVISIONS   OF  THE  BODY. 


Ill 


he  is  a  submissive  but  not  a  devoted  friend.  He 
cannot  be  very  much  counted  upon.  If  the  thumb 
stands  outward,  we  may  rely  upon  his  promise. 

We  still  find  life,  soul  and  mind  in  each  division 
of  the  body. 

There  are  also  a  buccal,  an  occipital  and  an 
abdominal  life. 

The  body  of  man,  with  all  its  active  and  attractive 
foci,  with  all  its  manifestations,  may  be  considered 
an  ellipse. 

These  well-indicated  divisions  may  be  stated  in  an 
analytic  formula: 


Attractive  centres. 


Life:  Occipital. 
Mind:  Temporal. 
Soul:  Parietal. 
Mind:  Frontal. 
Soul:  Buccal. 
Life:  Genal. 
Mind:  Thoracic. 
Soul:  Epigastric. 
,  Life  :  Abdominal. 
I  Life:  Shoulders. 
Soul:  Elbows. 
Mind:  Wrists. 
Life:  Thigh. 
Soul:  Knee. 
Mind:  Foot. 


» Expressive  centres. 


This  IS  the  proper  place  to  fix  the  definition  of 
each  division  by  some  familiar  illustration. 

Let  us  take  an  individual  in  a  somewhat  embar- 
rassed situation.  He  is  a  gentleman  who  has  been 
overcome  by  wine.     We  see  him  touching  the  tern- 


112  GESTURE. 

poral  bone,  or  the  ear,  as  if  to  seek  some  expedient : 
the  strategic  mind  is  there. 

Let  us  begin  with  the  descending  gamut,  and  let 
the  hand  pass  over  all  the  divisions  of  the  attractive 
centres. 

At  the  occiput :  Here  is  an  adventure !  I  have 
really  had  too  strong  a  dose  of  them ! 

At  the  parietal  bone :  What  a  shame  ! 

At  the  temporal  bone :  What  will  the  people  say 
of  me? 

At  the  forehead:  Reason  however  tells  me  to 
pause. 

At  the  buccal  zone :  How  shall  I  dare  reappear 
before  those  who  have  seen  me  in  this  state ! 

At  the  genal  zone :  But  they  did  serve  such  good 
wine ! 

At  the  breast :  Reason  long  ago  advised  temper- 
ance to  me. 

At  the  epigastrium;  I  have  so  many  regrets 
every  time  I  transgress ! 

At  the  abdomen :  The  devil !  Gourmandism  !  I 
am  a  wretched  creature  ! 

The  same  illustrations  may  be  reproduced  in  the 
rising  scale. 

When  the  parietals  are  touched,  the  idea  and  the 
sentiment  are  very  elevated.  As  the  foci  rise,  they 
become  more  exalted. 

Let  this  be  considered  from  another  point  of  view. 
We  shall  reproduce  gratitude  by  touching  all  the 
centres. 


Divisions  of  the  body.  113 

They  have  been  centres  of  attraction,  we  shall 
render  them  points  of  departure. 

\'  I  thank  you  !  "  The  more  elevated  the  move- 
ments, the  more  nobility  there  is  in  the  expression 
of  the  sentiment.  The  exaltation  is  proportional 
to  the  section  indicated. 

The  posterior  region  is  very  interesting.  There 
are  three  sorts  of  vertebrae :  cervical,  dorsal  and 
lumbar. 

This  apparatus  may  first  be  considered  as  a  lever. 
But  taking  the  vertical  column  alone,  we  shall  have 
twenty-four  special  and  distinct  keys  whose  action 
and  tonality  will  be  entirely  specific.  From  these 
twenty-four  vertebrae  proceed  the  nervous  plexi,  all 
aiding  a  particular  expression  ;  so  that  the  vertebral 
column  forms  the  keys  of  the  sympathetic  human 
instrument. 

If  the  finger  is  cut,  there  is  a  special  emotion  in 
one  place  of  the  vertebral  column. 

If  the  finger  is  crushed  by  the  blow  of  a  hammer, 
the  emotion  will  affect  a  special  vertebra. 

The  nose  is  one  of  the  most  complex  and  impor- 
tant agents. 

There  are  here  nine  divisions  to  be  studied.  (See 
page  82.) 


8 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  GESTURE  IN  RELATION  TO  THE  FIGURES  WHICH 
REPRESENT  IT. 

Gesture  through  its  inflections  may  reproduce  all 
the  figures  of  geometry.  We  shall  confine  our- 
selves to  a  description  of  the  primary  and  most 
usual  imitative  inflections. 

These  inflections  comprise  three  sorts  of  move- 
ments aflected  by  each  gesture,  which  usually  unite 
and  constitute  a  synthetic  form.  These  three  move- 
ments agree  with  the  three  primary  actions  which 
characterize  the  manifestations  of  the  soul,  the 
mind  and  the  life.  These  are  direct,  circular  and 
oblique  inflections. 

The  flexor  movements  are  direct,  the  rotar>' 
movements  circular,  the  abductory  movements  ob- 
lique. The  sum  of  these  movements  constitutes 
nine  co-essential  terms,  whose  union  forms  the  ac° 
cord  of  nine. 

There  are  rising,  falling  and  medium  inflections. 

Gesture  does  everything  that  the  voice  does  in 
rising.  Hence  there  is  great  affinity  between  the 
voice  and  the  arms.  Vocal  inflection  is  like  the 
gestures  of  the  blind ;  in  fact,  with  acquaintance, 
one  may  know  the  nature  of  the  gesture  from  the 
sound  of*thc  voice. 


THE  INFLECTIONS  OF  GESTURE.  II5 

We  exalt  people  by  a  circle.  We  say  that  a  thing 
is  beautiful,  noble,  grand — making  circles  which  grew 
higher  and  broader  as  the  object  is  more  elevated. 

We  choose  the  circle  for  exalting  and  caressing, 
because  the  circle  is  the  most  agreeable  form  to 
touch  and  to  caress.     For  example,  an  ivory  ball. 

This  form  applies  to  all  that  is  great. 

For  God  there  is  no  circle,  there  can  be  none. 
But  we  outline  a  portion  of  an  immense  circle,  of 
which  we  can  touch  but  one  point.  We  indicate 
only  the  inner  periphery  of  a  circle  it  is  impossible 
to  finish,  and  then  retrace  our  steps. 

When  the  circle  is  made  small,  we  make  it  with 
one,  two,  three  or  four  fingers,  with  the  hand,  with 
the  arm.  If  the  circle  is  vast  as  can  be  made 
with  the  arms,  it  is  homogeneous. 

But  a  small  circle  made  with  the  arm  will  express 
stupidity.  Thus  we  say  of  a  witty  man :  "  This  is  a 
witty  man,"  employing  the  fingers. 

Stupidity  wishing  to  simulate  this,  would  make  a 
broad  movement. 

Let  us  take  the  fable  of  Captain  Renard  as  an 
example  of  this  view  of  the  circle. 

I  depict  the  cunning  nature  of  this  captain  with 
my  fingers.  Without  this  he  would  not  be  a  captain ; 
but  at  most  a  corporal. 

—  "  He  went  in  company 
With  his  friend  He-Goat  of  the  branching  horns. 
The  one  could  see  no  farther  than  his  nose ; 
The  other  was  past  master  in  deceit." 


IlCr  GESTURE. 

As  they  go  along,  the  fox  relates  all  his  exploits 
to  the  goat,  and  the  goat  surprised,  and  wishing  an 
end  of  the  recital,  sees  fit  to  make  a  gesture,  as  he 
says : 

"  I  admire  people  full  of  sense  like  you." 

In  making  the  small  circle,  he  employs  not  only 
the  fingers,  but  the  arm,  the  shoulder,  the  whole 
body.  He  is  an  imbecile.  He  wastes  too  much 
effort  in  making  a  small  circle. 

Let  us  take  a  situation  from  an  opera.  When 
Robert  enters  and  sees  Isabella,  he  says  of  her : 

"This  peaceful  sleep,  this  lull  of  every  sense. 
Lends  a  yet  sweeter  charm  to  this  young  face." 

The  gesture  is  in  the  form  of  a  geometrical 
figure. 

In  another  place,  Robert  says : 

"  Thy  voice,  proud  beauty,  few  can  understand." 

Here  a  spheroidal  and  then  a  rectangular  move- 
ment must  be  made.  We  close  the  door.  **  Her 
voice  will  be  understood  by  me,  alone."  He  might 
say :  "  Thy  voice,  proud  beauty,  will  not  be  under- 
stood. It  will  be  elevated  for  me,  and  not  for 
others." 

Every  sentiment  has  its  form,  its  plastic  expres- 
sion, and  as  its  form  is  more  or  less  elaborated,  we 
may  judge  of  the  elevation  of  the  speaker's  thought. 
If  we  could  stereotype  gesture,  we  might  say: 
"  This  one  has  the  more  elevated  heart,  that  one  the 


DELINEATION  OF  GESTURE.  II 7 

least  elevated ;  this  one  in  the  matter,  that  one  in 
the  spirit  of  his  discourse." 

All  gestures  may  be  very  well  delineated.  An 
orator  gesticulating  before  the  public,  resembles  a 
painter  who  pencils  outlines  and  designs  upon  a 
wall. 

This  reproduction  of  the  figures  of  gesture  is 
called  Chorography.  We  give  in  the  subjoined 
chart  some  types  of  gesture.  These  are  a  few 
flowers  culled  from  a  rich  garden. 

To  express  sensual  grace  the  gesture  takes  the 
downward  spheroidal  form.  The  virtuous  form 
would  be  upward. 

If  we  wish  to  express  many  attractive  things,  we 
make  many  spheroidal  gestures. 

What  is  called  the  culminating  point  of  the  ges- 
ture, must  not  be  forgotten.  This  is  a  ring  in  the 
form  of  the  last  stroke  of  the  German  letter  2), 
which  is  made  by  a  quick,  electric  movement  of  the 
wrist. 

We  refer  the  student  to  the  close  of  the  volume, 
for  a  model  of  exercises  comprising  a  series  of  ges- 
tures which  express  the  most  eloquent  sentiments 
of  the  human  heart. 

This  exercise  in  gesture  has  two  advantages:  it 
presents  all  the  interest  of  the  most  fascinating 
drama,  and  is  the  best  means  of  gaining  suppleness 
by  accustoming  ourselves  to  the  laws  of  gesture. 


Il8  GESTURE. 

Criterion  of  Chorography. 


? 


e 


Good  day. 


^ 


Go. 


'/i-^./^(5^^ 


No  one  will  have  so  much  glory,  so  much  honor. 


Inflective  Medallion. 


The  vertical  line  i  expresses  affirmation.  The  horizontal  line  2 
expresses  negation.  The  oblique  line  3  rejects  despicable  things. 
The  oblique  line  4  rejects  things  which  oppress  us,  of  which  we 
would  be  freed. 

5.  The  quarter-circle,  whose  form  recalls  that  of  the  hammock, 
expresses  well-being,  happiness,  confidence. 

6.  The  curvilinear  eccentric  quarter-circle  expresses  secrecy,  si- 
lence, possession,  domination,  stability,  imposition,  inclusion. 

7.  The  curvilinear  outside  quarter-circle  expresses  things  slender, 
delicate  (in  two  ways);  the  downward  movement  expresses  moral 
and  intellectual  delicacy.' 

8.  The  outside  quarter-circle  expresses  exuberance,  plenitude, 
amplitude,  generosity. 

9.  The  circle  which  surrounds  and  embraces,  characterizes  glorifi- 
cation and  exaltation. 


PART  THIRD. 


ARTICULATE  LANGUAGE. 


PART   THIRD 


CHAPTER  I. 

ORIGIN   AND    ORGANIC    APPARATUS    OF   LANGUAGE. 

Man  reveals  his  life  through  more  than  four  mil- 
lions of  inflections  ere  he  can  speak  or  gesticulate. 
When  he  begins  to  reason,  to  make  abstractions, 
the  vocal  apparatus  and  gesture  are  insufficient;  he 
must  speak,  he  must  give  his  thought  an  outside 
form  so  that  it  may  be  appreciated  and  transmitted 
through  the  senses.  There  are  things  which  can  be 
expressed  neither  by  sound  nor  gesture.  For  in- 
stance, how  shall  we  say  at  the  same  time  of  a 
plant :  "  It  is  beautiful,  but  it  has  no  smell." 
Thought  must  then  be  revealed  by  conventional 
signs,  which  are  articulation.  Therefore,  God  has 
endowed  man  with  the  rich  gift  of  speech. 

Speech  is  the  sense  of  the  intelligence ;  sound  the 
sense  of  the  life,  and  gesture  that  of  the  heart. 

Soul  communicates  with  soul  only  through  the 
senses.  The  senses  are  the  condition  of  man  as  a 
pilgrim  on  this  earth.     Man  is  obliged  to  materialize 


124  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

all :  the  sensations  through  the  voice,  the  sentiments 
through  gesture,  the  ideas  through  speech.  The 
means  of  transmission  are  always  material.  This  is 
why  the  church  has  sacraments,  an  exterior  worship, 
chants,  ceremonies.  All  its  institutions  arise  from  a 
principle  eminently  philosophical. 

Speech  is  formed  by  three  agents :  the  lips,  the 
tongue  and  the  soft-palate. 

It  is  delightful  to  study  the  special  role  of  these 
agents,  the  reason  of  their  movements. 

They  have  a  series  of  gestures  that  may  be  per- 
fectly understood.  Thus  language  resembles  the 
hand,  having  also  its  gesture. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ELEMENTS   OF  ARTICULATE  LANGUAGE. 

Every  language  is  composed  of  consonants  and 
vowels.  These  consonants  and  vowels  are  gestures. 
The  value  of  the  consonant  is  the  gesture  of  the 
thing  expressed.  But  as  gesture  is  always  the 
expression  of  a  moral  fact,  each  consonant  has  the 
intrinsic  character  of  a  movement  of  the  heart.  It 
is  easy  to  prove  that  the  consonant  is  a  gesture. 
For  example,  in  articulating  it,  the  tongue  rises  to 
the  palate  and  makes  the  same  movement  as  the  arm 
when  it  would  repel  something. 

The  elements  of  all  languages  have  the  same 
meaning.  The  vowels  correspond  directly  to  the 
moral  state. 

There  is  diversity  of  language  because  the  things 
we  wish  to  express  vary  from  difference  in  usage 
and  difference  of  manner  and  climate.  What  we 
call  a  shoe,  bears  among  northern  people  a  name 
indicating  that  it  protects  the  feet  from  the  cold; 
among  southern  people  it  protects  the  feet  from  the 
heat.  Elsewhere  the  shoe  protects  the  feet  against 
the  roughness  of  the  soil ;  and  in  yet  other  places, 
it  exists  only  as  a  defensive  object —  a  weapon. 

These  diverse  interpretations  require  diverse  signs. 
This  does  not  prove  the  diversity  of  language,  but 


126  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE 

the  diversity  of  the  senses  affected  by  the  same 
object. 

Things  are  perceived  only  after  the  fashion  of  the 
perceiver,  and  this  is  why  the  syllables  vary  among 
different  peoples. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  but  one  language.  We  find 
everywhere  these  words :  /  an  active  personality,  me 
a  passive  personality,  and  mine  an  awarding  person- 
ality.  In  every  language  we  find  the  subject,  the 
verb  and  the  adjective. 

Every  articulate  language  is  composed  of  substan- 
tive, adjective  and  copulative  ideas. 

All  arts  are  found  in  articulation.  Sound  is  the 
articulation  of  the  vocal  apparatus;  gesture  the 
articulation  of  the  dynamic  apparatus ;  language  the 
articulation  of  the  buccal  apparatus.  Therefore, 
music,  the  plastic  arts  and  speech  have  their  origin 
and  their  perfection  in  articulation. 

It  is,  then,  of  the  utmost  importance  to  understand 
thoroughly  the  elements  of  speech,  which  is  at  the 
same  time  a  vocalization  and  a  dynamic.  Without 
this  knowledge  no  oratorical  art  is  possible. 

Let  us  now  hasten  to  take  possession  of  the  riches 
of  speech. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   ORATORICAL  VALUE  OF   SPEECH. 

The  privilege  of  speech  may  be  considered  under 
a  double  aspect,  in  itself  and  in  its  relations  to  the 
aft  of  oratory. 

1.  In  Itself. — Speech  is  the  most  wonderful  gift 
of  the  Creator.  Through  speech  man  occupies  the 
first  rank  in  the  scale  of  being.  It  is  the  language 
of  the  reason,  and  reason  lifts  man  above  every 
creature.  Man  through  speech  incarnates  his  mind 
to  unite  himself  with  his  fellow-men,  as  the  Son  of 
God  was  incarnated  to  unite  with  human  nature; 
like  the  Son  of  God  who  nourishes  humanity  with 
his  body  in  the  eucharist,  so  man  makes  his  speech 
understood  by  multitudes  who  receive  it  entire, 
without  division  or  diminution. 

Eternal  thanks  to  God  for  this  ineffable  gift,  so 
great  in  itself,  of  such  value  in  the  art  of  oratory ! 

2.  What  is  the  oratorical  value  of  speech?  In 
oratorical  art,  speech  plays  a  subordinate  but  indis- 
pensable role. 

Let  us  examine  separately  the  two  members  of 
this  proposition. 

A. — In  the  hierarchy  of  oratorical  powers,  speech 
comes  only  in  the  third  order.     In  fact,  the  child 


128  ARTICULATE  LANGUAGE. 

begins  to  utter  cries  and  to  gesticulate  before  he 
speaks. 

The  text  is  only  a  label.  The  sense  lies  not  in 
speech,  but  in  inflection  and  gesture.  Nature  insti- 
tutes a  movement,  speech  names  the  movement. 
Writing  is  a  dead  letter. 

Speech  is  only  the  title  of  that  which  gesture  has 
announced ;  speech  comes  only  to  confirm  what  is 
already  understood  by  the  auditors. 

We  are  moved  in  reading,  not  so  much  by  what  is 
said,  as  by  the  manner  of  reading.  It  is  not  what 
we  hear  that  affects  us,  but  that  which  we  ourselves 
imagine. 

An  author  cannot  fully  express  his  ideas  in  writ- 
ing ;  hence  the  interpretation  of  the  hearer  is  often 
false,  because  he  does  not  know  the  writer. 

It  is  remarkable,  the  way  in  which  we  refer  every- 
thing to  ourselves.  We  must  needs  create  a  sem- 
blance of  it.  We  are  affected  by  a  discourse  because 
we  place  the  personage  in  a  situation  our  fancy  has 
created.  Hence  it  happens  that  we  may  be  wrong 
in  our  interpretation,  and  that  the  author  might  say : 
''This  is  not  my  meaning." 

In  hearing  a  symphony  we  at  once  imagine  a 
scene,  we  give  it  an  aspect ;   this  is  why  it  affects  us. 

A  written  discourse  requires  many  illustrative 
epithets ;  in  a  spoken  discourse,  the  adjectives  may 
be  replaced  by  gesture  and  inflection. 

Imitation  is  the  melody  of  the  eye,  inflection  is 
the  melody  of  the  ear.     All  that  strikes  the  eye  has 


ORATORICAL  VALUE  OF  SPEECH.  1 29 

a  sound ;  this  Is  why  the  sight  of  the  stars  produces 
an  enchanting  melody  in  our  souls. 

Hence  in  a  discourse,  speech  is  the  letter,  and  it 
is  inflection  and  gesture  which  give  it  life.  Never- 
theless : — 

B. — ^The  role  of  speech,  although  subordinate,  is 
not  only  important,  but  necessary.  In  fact,  human 
language,  as  we  have  said,  is  composed  of  inflection, 
gesture  and  speech. 

Language  would  not  be  complete  without  speech. 
Speech  has  nothing  to  do  with  sentiment,  it  is  true, 
but  a  discourse  is  not  all  sentiment ;  there  is  a  place 
for  reason,  for  demonstration,  and  upon  this  ground 
.gesture  has  nothing  to  do;  the  entire  work  here  falls . 
back  upon  speech.  . 

Speech  is  the  crown  of  oratorical  action ;  it  is  this 
which  gives  the  final  elucidation,  which  justifies  ges- 
tu.re.  Gesture  has  depicted  the  object,  the  Being, 
and  speech  responds:   God, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  VALUE    OF  WORDS   IN  PHRASES. 

Expression  is  very  difficult.  One  may  possess 
great  knowledge  and  lack  power  to  express  it.  Elo- 
quence does  not  always  accompany  intellect.  As  a 
rule,  poets  do  not  know  how  to  read  what  they  have 
written.  Hence  we  may  estimate  the  importance  of 
understanding  the  value  of  the  different  portions  of 
a  discourse.  Let  us  now  examine  intellectual  lan- 
guage in  relation  to  intensity  of  ideas. 

There  are  nine  species  of  words,  or  nine  species 
of  ideas.  The  article  need  not  be  counted,  since  it 
is  lacking  in  several  languages.  It  is  the  accord  of 
nine  which  composes  the  language,  and  which  cor- 
responds to  the  numbers.  Every  word  has  a  deter- 
minate, mathematical  value. 

As  many  unities  must  be  reckoned  on  the  initial 
consonant  as  there  are  values  in  the  word. 

Thus  the  subject  has  less  value  than  the  attribute. 

The  attribute  has  a  value  of  six  degrees  and  rep- 
resents six  times  the  intensity  of  the  subject.  Why? 
Because  God  has  willed  that  we  should  formulate 
our  idea  with  mathematical  intensities. 

The  value  rests  only  upon  the  initial  consonant 


VALUE   OF  WORDS   IN   PHRASES.  I3I 

of  the  word.  Words  have  only  one  expressive  por- 
tion, that  is,  the  initial  consonant.  It  receives  the 
whole  value,  and  is  the  invariable  part  of  the  word. 
It  is  the  root.  Words  are  transformed  in  passing 
from  language  to  language,  and  nevertheless  retain 
their  radical. 

How  shall  we  say  that  a  flower  is  charming? 

Do  not  demand  of  intensity  of  sound  a  value  it 
does  not  possess.  It  suffices  to  await  the  articula- 
tion of  the  consonant. 

The  most  normal  phenomena  remain  true  to 
mechanical  laws.  The  mere  articulation  of  the  word 
expresses  more  than  all  the  vocal  and  imitative 
effects  that  can  be  introduced. 

Most  speakers  dwell  upon  the  final  word ;  this 
habit  is  absolutely  opposed  to  the  nature  of  heart 
movements.  This  school  habit  is  hard  to  correct, 
and  if  Rachel  became  a  great  artiste,  it  was  because 
she  did  not  have  this  precedent. 

The  subject  represents  one  degree;  it  is  the 
weakest  expression. 

The  verb  represents  two  degrees;  the  attribute 
six.  Let  us  illustrate  the  manner  of  passing  from 
one  to  six  as  follows : 

A  rustic  comes  to  visit  you  upon  some  sort  of 
business.  This  man  has  a  purpose.  As  you  are  a 
musician  he  is  surprised  by  his  first  sight  of  a  piano. 
He  says  to  himself:  ** What  is  this?  It  is  a  singular 
object." 

It  is  neither  a  table   nor  a  cupboard.     He  now 


132  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

perceives  the  ivory  keys  and  other  keys  of  ebony. 
What  can  this  mean?  He  stands  confounded  before 
an  instrument  entirely  new  to  him.  If  it  were  given 
to  him,  he  would  not  know  what  to  do  with  it;  he 
might  burn  it.  The  piano  interests  him  so  much 
that  he  forgets  the  object  of  his  visit. 

He  sees  you  arrive.  You  occupy  for  him  the  place 
of  the  verb  in  relation  to  the  object  which  interests 
him.  He  passes  from  this  object  to  you.  Although 
you  are  not  the  object  which  engrosses  him,  there 
js  a  progression  in  the  interest,  because  he  knov/s 
that  through  you  he  will  learn  what  this  piece  of 
furniture  is.     *'Tell  me  what  this  is  !"  he  cries. 

You  strike  the  piano;  it  gives  forth  an  accord. 
O  heavens,  how  beautiful !  He  is  greatly  moved,  he 
utters  many  expressions  of  delight,  and  now  he 
would  not  burn  the  instrument. 

Here  is  a  progression.  At  first  the  piece  of  fur- 
niture interests  him ;  then  its  owner  still  more ;  at 
last  the  attributes  of  the  piano  give  it  its  entire 
value. 

But  why  six  degrees  upon  the  last  term?  The  value 
of  a  fact  comes  from  its  limitation ;  the  knowledge 
of  an  idea  also  proceeds  from  its  limitation.  A  fact 
in  its  general  and  vague  expression,  awakens  but 
little  interest.  But  as  it  descends  from  the  gelius 
to  the  species,  from  the  species  to  the  individual,  it 
grows  more  interesting.  It  comes  more  within  our 
capacity.  We  do  not  embrace  the  vast  circle  of  a 
generic  fact. 


VALUE   OF  WORDS   IN   PHRASES. 


133 


Let   us   take  another   proposition:   "A  flower  is 
pleasing." 


I 

-Flower 


_  of  the  forest 


4 
this 


iJ 


' —        UUS  r 

5  8 

I little  . — ^but    1 


3456 
pleasing 

7 
very 


6 

feded 


0^1 


The  word  flower  alone  says  nothing  to  the  imag- 
ination. Is  it  a  rose  or  a  lily  of  the  valley?  The 
expression  is  too  vague.  When  the  idea  of  genus 
is  modified  by  that  of  species,  we  are  better  satisfied. 

Let  us  say:  "The  flower  of  the  forest."  This 
word  forest  conveys  an  idea  to  the  mind.  We  can 
make  our  bouquet.  We  think  of  the  lily  of  the 
valley,  of  the  violet,  the  anemone,  the  periwinkle. 
This  restriction  gives  value  to  the  subject.  Forest  is 
more  important  than  the  verb  which  does  not  com- 
plete the  idea,  and  less  important  than  pleasing. 
Therefore  we  place  3  upon  forest^  and  shall  rank 
pleasing  from  3  to  4,  since  it  closes  the  assertion. 

If  we  individualize  by  the  word  this,  we  augment 
the  value  by  giving  actuality  to  the  word  flower. 
This  has  more  value  than  the  forest,  because  it  des- 
ignates the  subject.     Hence  this  has  four  degrees. 

K'^  pleasing  forms  the  very  essence  of  our  prop- 
osition, we  are  obliged  to  give  it  five  degrees. 

The  idea  is  still  somewhat  vague.     If  I  specify  it 


134  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

still  further  by  saying  this  little  flower,  little  has  a 
higher  value  than  all  the  other  words. 

What  value  shall  we  give  this  adjective  ?  We  have 
reached  five,  but  have  not  yet  fully  expressed  the 
idea  which  impresses  us.  Little  must  therefore  have 
six  degrees. 

This  is  the  sole  law  for  all  the  languages  of 
the  world.  There  are  no  two  ways  of  articulating 
the  words  of  a  discourse.  When  we  learn  a  dis- 
course by  heart  in  order  to  deliver  it,  and  take  no 
account  of  the  value  of  the  terms,  the  divine  law  is 
reversed. 

Now,  if  we  could  introduce  an  expression  here, 
which  would  at  once  enhance  the  value  of  the  word 
pleasing,  it  would  evidently  be  stronger  than  all  the 
others.  In  fact,  if  the  way  in  which  a  thing  is  pleas- 
ing can  be  expressed,  it  is  evident  that  this  manner 
of  being  pleasing  will  rise  above  the  word  itself. 

We  do  not  know  the  proportion  in  which  the 
flower  is  pleasing.  We  will  say  that  it  is  very  pleas- 
ing. This  adverb  gives  the  word  pleasing  a  new 
value.  It  is  in  turn  modified.  If  we  should  say 
immensely,  or  use  any  other  adverb  of  quantity,  the 
value  would  remain  the  same.  It  would  still  be  a 
modification.  Thus,  when  we  say  of  God  that  he  is 
good,  immense,  infifiite,  there  is  always  a  limitation 
attached  to  the  idea  of  God, — a  limitation  necessary 
to  our  nature.  For  God  is  not  good  in  the  way  we 
understand  goodness  or  greatness ;  but  our  finite 
minds  need  some  expression  for  our  idea. 


THE   CONJUNCTION.  1 35 

We  see  the  word  pleasing  modified  in  turn,  and 
the  term  which  modifies  it,  is  higher  than  itself. 
Very  pleasing^ — what  value  shall  we  give  it?  We 
can  give  it  no  more  than  seven  here. 

A  single  word  may  obliterate  the  effect  produced 
by  all  these  expressions.  A  simple  conjunction  may 
be  introduced  which  will  entirely  modify  all  we  have 
taken  pains  to  say.  It  is  a  but.  But  is  an  entire 
discourse.  We  no  longer  believe  what  has  been  said 
hitherto,  but  what  follows  this  word.  This  conjunc- 
tion has  a  value  of  eight  degrees,  a  value  possible 
to  all  conjunctions  without  exception.  It  sums  up 
the  changes  indicated  by  subsequent  expressions,  and 
embraces  them  synthetically.  It  has,  then,  a  very 
great  oratorical  value. 

The  Conjunction, 

1.  We  refer  here  only  to  conjunctions  in  the  ellip- 
tical sense.  The  conjunction  is  an  ellipse,  because 
it  is  the  middle  term  between  two  members  of  the 
sentence  which  are  the  extremes ;  it  recalls  what  has 
just  been  said,  and  indicates  what  is  to  come.  Con- 
sidered in  itself,  the  word  and,  when  elliptical,  em- 
braces what  has  just  been  said,  and  what  is  about  to 
be  said.  All  this  is  founded  upon  the  principle  that 
the  means  are  equal  to  the  extremes. 

2.  The  copulative  or  enumerative  conjunctions, 
have  only  two  degrees.  We  see  that  a  conjunction 
is  not  elliptical  when,  instead  of  uniting  propositions, 
it  unites  only  ideas  of  the  same  character. 


136  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

3.  Determinative  conjunctions  have  only  three 
degrees.  For  example :  ''  It  is  necessary  that  I 
should  work."     That  has  only  three  degrees. 

4.  The  values  indicated  can  be  changed  only  by 
additional  values  justified  by  gesture.  Thus  in  the 
phrase:  ''This  medley  of  glory  and  honor," — the 
value  of  the  word  medley  can  and  must  be  changed ; 
but  a  gesture  is  necessary,  for  speech  is  only  a  feeble 
echo  of  gesture.  Only  gesture  can  justify  a  value 
other  than  that  indicated  in  this  demonstration. 
This  value  is  purely  grammatical,  but  the  gesture 
may  give  it  a  superlative  idea,  which  we  call  addi- 
tional value.  The  value  of  consonants  may  vary  in 
the  pronunciation  according  to  their  valuation  by 
the  speakers. 

More  or  less  value  is  given  to  the  degrees  noted  and 
to  be  noted,  as  there  is  more  or  less  emotion  in  the 
speaker.  This  explains  why  a  gesture,  which  expresses 
an  emotion  of  the  soul,  justifies  changing  the  gram- 
matical value  in  the  pronunciation  of  consonants. 

5.  Even  aside  from  additional  values,  the  gesture 
must  always  precede  the  articulation  of  the  initial 
consonant.  Otherwise  to  observe  the  degree  would 
be  supremely .  ridiculous.  The  speaker  would  re- 
semble a  skeleton,  a  statue.  The  law  of  values 
becomes  vital  only  through  gesture  and  inflection. 
Stripped  of  the  poetry  of  gesture  and  inflection,  the 
application  of  the  law  is  monstrous. 

To  place  six  degrees  upon  pleasing  without  ges- 
ture, is  abominable. 


THE   CONJUNCTION.  1 37 

We  now  understand  the  spirit  of  gesture,  which  is 
given  to  man  to  justify  values.  It  is  for  him  to  de- 
cide whether  the  proposition  is  true  or  not.  If  we 
deprive  our  discourse  of  gestures,  no  way  is  left  to 
prove  the  truth  of  values.  Thus  gesture  is  prescribed 
by  certain  figures,  and  we  shall  now  see  from  a  prop- 
osition, how  many  gestures  are  needed,  and  to  what 
word  the  gesture  should  be  given. 

The  Conjunction  Continued — Various  Examples, 
The  degree  of  value  given  to   the   conjunction, 
may  be  represented  by  the  figure  8. 

Let  us  justify  this  valuation  by  citing  these  two 
lines  of  Racine : 

"  The  wave  comes  on,  it  breaks,  and  vomits 
'neath  our  eyes. 
Amid  the  floods  of  foam,  a  monster 
grim  and  dire." 

The  ordinary  reader  would  allow  the  conjunction 
and  to  pass  unperceived,  because  the  word  is  not 
sonorous,  and  we  accord  oratorical  effects  only  to 
sonorous  words.  But  the  man  who  sees  the  mean- 
ing fully,  and  who  adds  and,  has  said  the  whole. 
The  other  words  are  iniportant,  but  everything  is 
implied  in  this  conjunction. 

Racine  has  not  placed  a7id  here  to  disjoin,  but  to 
unite. 

We  give  another  example  of  the  conjunction ; 

Augustus  says  to  Cinna : 

"  Take  a  chair  Cinna,  and  in  all  things  heed 
Strictly  the  law  that  I  lay  down  for  thee." 


138  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

Let  US  suppress  the  isolation  and  silence  of  the 
conjunction,  and  there  is  no  more  color. 
Augustus  adds: 

"Hold  thy  tongue  captive,  and  if  silence  deep 
To  thy  emotion  do  some  violence" — 

Suppress  the  silence  and  isolation  of  the  conjunc- 
tion and^  and  how  poor  is  the  expression ! 
In  the  fable  of  "The  Wolf  and  the  Dog:" 

"Sire  wolf  would  gladly  have  attacked  and  slain 
him,  but  it  would  have  been  necessary  to  give  battle, 
a7td  it  was  now  almost  morning." 

The  entire  significance  lies  in  the  silence  which 
follows  the  conjunctions. 

We  speak  of  a  sympathetic  conjunction,  and  also 
of  one  denoting  surprise  or  admiration ;  but  this 
conjunction  differs  from  the  interjection,  only  in  this 
respect :  it  rests  upon  the  propositions  and  unites  its 
terms.  Like  the  interjection,  it  is  of  a  synthetic  and 
elliptic  nature ;  it  groups  all  the  expressions  it  unites 
as  interjectives.  It  is,  then,  from  this  point  of  view, 
exclamative. 

In  the  fable  of  "The  Wolf  and  the  Lamb,"  the 
wolf  says: 

"  This  must  be  some  one  of  your  own  race,  for 
you  would  not  think  of  sparing  me,  you  shepherds 
ajid  you.  dogs." 

Here  is  an  interjective  conjunction.  Suppress  the 
complaint  after  for,  and  there  is  no  more  effect. 
The  conjunction  is  the  soul  of  the  discourse. 


THE   INTERJECTION.  1 39 

In  the  exclamation  in  ''Joseph  Sold  by  his  Breth- 
ren," we  again  find  an  interjective  conjunction. 

''Alas and 

The  ingrates  who  would  sell  me ! " 

Here  the  conjunction  afid  yields  little  to  the  inter- 
jection alas.     It  has  fully  as  much  value. 

The  Interjection  in  Relation  to  its  Degree  of  Value, 

The  interjection  has  9  degrees ;  this  is  admirably 
suited  to  the  interjection,  an  elliptical  term  which 
comprises  the  three  terms  of  a  proposition.  In 
summing  up  the  value  of  a  simple  proposition,  we 
have  (a  noteworthy  thing)  the  figure  9.  This  gives 
the  accord  of  9.  The  subject  i,  the  verb  2,  and  6 
upon  the  attribute,  equal  9.  Thus  the  equation  is 
perfect. 

Gesture  is  the  rendering  of  the  ellipse.  Gesture 
is  the  elliptical  language  given  to  man  to  express 
what  speech  is  powerless  to  say. 

We  have  spoken  of  additional  figures.  Each  of 
these  figures  supposes  a  gesture.  There  is  a  gesture, 
an  imitative  expression  wherever  there  is  an  addi- 
tional figure.  An  ellipse  in  a  word,  such  as  is  met 
with  in  the  conjunction  and  the  interjection,  demands 
a  gesture. 

9  is  a  neutral  term  which  must  be  sustained  by 
gesture  and  inflection.  Gesture  would  be  the  inflec- 
tion of  the  deaf,  inflection  the  gesture  of  the  blind. 
The  orator  should,  in  fact,  address  himself  to  the 
deaf  as  well  as  to  the  blind.     Gesture  and  inflection 


I40  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

should  supplement  physical  and  mental  infirmities, 
and  God  in  truth  has  given  man  this  double  means 
of  expression.  There  is  also  a  triple  expression, 
which  is  double  in  view  of  this  same  modification  of 
speech.     Let  us  suppose  this  proposition : 

"  How  much  pain  I  suffer  in  hearing !  " 

According  to  the  rules  laid  down,  we  have  3  upon 
pain,  6  upon  suffer,  and  6  again  upon  hearing. 

It  is  said  that  Talma  brought  out  the  intensity  of 
his  suffering  by  resting  on  the  word  pain.  This  was 
wrong.  We  should  always  seek  the  expression 
equivalent  to  that  employed,  to  attain  a  certain 
value. 

If,  instead  of  the  determinate  conjunction  that,  we 
should  have  how  much  (^combien),  this  would  evi- 
dently be  the  important  word.  This  word  has  an 
elliptical  form.  It  evidently  belongs  to  a  preceding 
proposition.  It  means :  '*  I  could  not  express  all 
that  I  suffer."  Then  6  must  be  placed  upon  how 
much  and  not  upon  pain. 

But  the  figure  6  here  is  a  thermometer  which  indi- 
cates a  degree  of  vitality ;  it  does  not  express  the 
degree  of  vitality ;  that  is  reserved  for  gesture.  We 
need  not  ask  what  degree  this  can  give ;  its  office  is 
to  express  —  and  this  is  a  good  deal  —  a  value  me- 
chanical and  material,  but  very  significant.  A  rever- 
sion of  values  may  constitute  a  falsehood.  Stage 
actors  are  sometimes  indefinably  comic  in  this  way. 


DEGREES    OF   VALUE.  I4I 

A  Resume  of  the  Degrees  of  Value. 

To  crown  this  unprecedented  study  upon  lan- 
guage, we  give  in  a  table,  a  resume  of  the  different 
degrees  of  value  in  the  various  parts  of  a  discourse, 
relative  to  the  initial  consonant. 

The  object  of  the  preposition I 

The  verb  to  be  and  the  prepositions      ....     2 

The  direct  or  indirect  regimen 3 

The  limiting  (possessive  and  demonstrative)  ad- 
jectives     4 

The  qualifying  adjectives •     •     5 

The  participles  or  substantives  taken  adjectively 
or  attributively ;  that  is  to  say,  every  word  com- 
ing immediately  after  the  verb,  in  fine,  the  at- 
tribute       6 

The  adverbs 7 

Conjunctions,  superlative  ideas  or  additional  fig- 
ures      8 

The  interjection 9 

The  pronoun  Is  either  subject  or  complement,  and 
therefore  included  in  the  rest.  As  for  the  article,  it 
is  not  essential  to  a  language ;  there  is  no  article  in 
Latin. 

Thus  the  value  of  our  ideas  is  expressed  by 
figures.  We  have  only  to  reckon  on  our  fingers. 
We  might  beat  time  for  the  pronunciation  of  the 
consonants  as  for  the  notes  of  music.  Let  the  pupil 
exercise  his  fingers,  and  attain  that  skill  which  allows 
the  articulation  of  a  radical  consonant  only  after  he 


142  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE.       . 

has  marked  with  his  finger  the  time  corresponding 
to  its  figure.  If  difficuhies  present  themselves  at 
first,  so  much  the  better;  he  will  only  the  more 
accurately  distinguish  the  value  of  the  words. 


CHAPTER  V. 

FRENCH  AND  LATIN  PROSODY. 

French  Prosody. 

Prosody  is  the  rhythmic  pronunciation  of  syllables 
according  to  accent,  respiration,  and,  above  all,  quan- 
tity. 

In  the  Italian  there  are  no  two  equal  sounds ;  the 
quantity  is  never  uniform*  Italian  is,  therefore,  the 
most  musical  of  languages.  Where  we  place  one 
accent  upon  a  vowel,  the  Italians  place  ten. 

There  is  a  euphonic  law  for  every  language ;  all 
idioms  must  have  an  accent.  In  every  language 
there  are  intense  sounds  and  subdued  sounds ;  the 
Italians  hold  to  this  variety  of  alternate  short  and 
long  sounds.  Continuous  beauty  should  be  avoided. 
A  beautiful  tone  must  be  introduced  to  relieve  the 
others.  Monotony  in  sounds  as  well  as  in  pronun- 
ciation, must  be  guarded  against.  Harmony  lies  in 
opposition. 

There  is  but  one  rule  of  quantity  in  French  pro- 
nunciation.    Here  is  the  text  of  this  law: 

There  are  and  can  be  only  long  initial  or  final 
vowels  —  whence  we  conclude : 

I.  Every  final  is  long  and  every  penultimate  is 
final,  since  e  mute  is  not  pronounced. 


144  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

2  The  length  of  initial  vowels  depends  upon  the 
value  of  the  initial  consonants  which  they  precede. 

A  word  cannot  contain  two  long  vowels  unless  it 
begins  with  a  vowel.  In  this  case,  the  vowel  of  the 
preceding  word  is  long,  and  prepares  for  the  enun- 
ciation of  the  consonant  according  to  its  degree. 

Every  first  consonant  in  a  word  is  strong,  as  it 
constitutes  the  radical  or  invariable  part  of  the  word. 

The  force  of  this  consonant  is  subordinate  to  the 
ruling  degree  of  the  idea  it  is  called  to  decide.  But 
every  vowel  which  precedes  this  first  consonant  is 
long,  since  it  serves  as  a  preparation  for  it.  But  to 
what  degree  of  length  may  this  initial  vowel  be  car- 
ried? The  representative  figure  of  the  consonant 
will  indicate  it. 

Usually,  the  first  consonant  of  every  word  is  rad- 
ical. Still  there  might  be  other  radical  consonants 
in  the  same  word.  But  the  first  would  rise  above 
the  others. 

The  radical  designates  the  substance  of  being,  and 
the  last  consonant  the  manner. 

The  whole  secret  of  expression  lies  in  the  time 
we  delay  the  articulation  of  the  initial  consonant. 
This  space  arrests  the  attention  and  prevents  our 
catching  the  sound  at  a  disadvantage. 

Latin  Prosody, 

1.  The  final  of  a  word  of  several  syllables  is 
usually  short. 

2.  In  words  of  two  syllables,  the  first  is  long.     In 


LATIN  PROSODY.  I4S 

Latin  words  of  two  syllables,  the  first  almost  always 
contains  the  radical. 

3.  In  words  of  three  and  more  syllables,  there  is 
one  long  syllable:  sometimes  the  first,  sometimes 
another.  We  rest  only  upon  tnis,  all  the  others 
being  counted  more  or  less  short. 

In  compound  words  no  account  need  be  made  of 
prefixes.  There  are  many  compound  words ;  and, 
consequently,  it  is  often  the  last  or  next  to  the  last 
consonant  which  is  the  radical. 

The  last  consonant  represents  always,  in  variable 
words,  quality,  person,  mode  or  time.  The  radical, 
on  the  contrary,  represents  the  sum  and  substance. 

4.  Monosyllables  are  long,  but  they  have,  espe- 
cially when  they  follow  each  other,  particular  rules, 
which  result  from  the  sense  of  the  phrases,  and  from 
the  mutual  dependence  of  words. 


to 


CHAPTER  VI. 

METHOD. 

Dictation  Exercises. 
A  subject  and  text  being   given,  notes    may  be 
written  under  the  nine  following  heads : 

1.  Oratorical  value  of  ideas. 

2.  The  elhpse. 

3.  Vocal  inflections. 

4.  Inflective  affinities,  or  relation  to  the  preceding 
inflections. 

5.  Gestures. 

6.  Imitative  affinities. 

7.  The  special  rule  for  each  gesture. 

8.  The  law  whence  this  rule  proceeds. 

9.  Reflections   upon    the   portrayal    of    personal 
character. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  SERIES  OF  GESTURES  FOR  EXERCISES. 

Preliminary  Reflections. 

We  know  the  words  of  Garrick : 

"  I  do  not  confide  in  myself,  not  I,  in  that  inspira- 
tion for  which  idle  mediocrity  waits." 

Art,  then,  presents  a  solid  basis  to  the  artist,  upon 
which  he  can  rest  and  reproduce  at  will  the  history 
of  the  human  heart  as  revealed  by  gesture. 

This  is  true,  and  it  is  as  an  application  of  this  truth 
that  we  are  about  to  consider  the  series,  which  is  an 
exposition  of  the  passions  that  agitate  man,  an  ini- 
tiation into  imitative  language.  It  is  a  poem,  and 
at  the  same  time  it  lays  down  rules  through  whose 
aid  the  self-possessed  artist  can  regain  the  gesture 
which  arises  from  sudden  perturbation  of  the  heart. 
It  is  a  grammar  which  must  be  studied  incessantly, 
in  order  to  understand  the  origin  and  value  of  imita- 
tive expressions. 

The  development  of  the  series  is  based  upon  the 
static,  the  semeiotic  and  the  dynamic. 

The  static  is  the  life  of  gesture ;  it  is  the  science 
of  the  equipoise  of  levers,  it  teaches  the  weight  of 
the  limbs   and  the  extent  of  their  development,  in 


148  ARTICULATE  LANGUAGE. 

order  to  maintain  the  equilibrium  of  the  body.  Its 
criterion  should  be  a  sort  of  balance. 

The  semeiotic  is  the  spirit  and  rationale  of  ges- 
ture.    It  is  the  science  of  signs. 

The  dynamic  is  the  action  of  equiponderant  forces 
through  the  static;  it  regulates  the  proportion  of 
movements  the  soul  would  impress  upon  the  body. 
The  foundation  and  criterion  of  the  dynamic,  is 
the  law  of  the  pendulum. 

The  series  proceeds,  resting  upon  these  three  pow- 
ers. The  semeiotic  has  given  the  signs,  it  becomes 
aesthetic  in  applying  them.  The  semeiotic  says: 
**  Such  a  gesture  reveals  such  a  passion ;  "  and  ges- 
ture replies :  "■  To  such  a  passion  I  will  apply  such 
a  sign."  And  without  awaiting  the  aid  of  an  inspira- 
tion often  hazardous,  deceitful  and  uncertain,  it 
moulds  the  body  to  its  will,  and  forces  it  to  repro- 
duce the  passion  the  soul  has  conceived.  The  se- 
meiotic is  a  science,  the  aesthetic  an  act  of  genius. 

The  series  divides  its  movements  into  periods  of 
time,  in  accordance  with  the  principle  that  the  more 
time  a  movement  has,  the  more  its  vitality  and  power  ; 
and  so  every  articulation  becomes  the  object  of  a 
time. 

The  articulations  unfold  successively  and  harmo- 
niously. Every  articulation  which  has  no  action, 
must  remain  absolutely  pendent,  or  become  stiff. 
Grace  is  closely  united  to  gesture;  the  manifold 
play  of  the  articulations  which  constitutes  strength, 
also  constitutes  grace.     Grace  subdues  only  because 


SERIES   OF  GESTURES   FOR  EXERCISES.       1 49 

sustained  by  strength,  and  because  strength  naturally 
subdues.     Grace  without  strength  is  affectation. 

Every  vehement  movement  must  affect  the  verti- 
cal position,  because  obliquity  deprives  the  move- 
ment of  force,  by  taking  from  it  the  possibility  of 
showing  the  play  of  the  articulations. 

The  demonstration  of  movement  is  in  the  head. 
The  head  is  the  primary  agent  of  movement;  the 
body  is  the  medium* agent,  the  arm  the  final  agent. 

Three  agents  in  gesture  are  especially  affected 
in  characterizing  the  life,  mind  and  soul.  The 
thumb  is  the  index-sign  of  life ;  the  shoulder  is  the 
sign  of  passion  and  sentiment ;  the  elbow  is  the  sign 
of  humility,  pride,  power,  intelligence  and  sacrifice. 

The  first  gesture  of  the  series  is  the  interpellation, 
the  entrance  upon  the  scene.  The  soul  is  scarce 
moved  as  yet,  and  still  this  is  the  most  difficult  of 
gestures,  because  the  most  complex.  It  must  indi- 
cate the  nature  of  the  interpellation,  its  degree  and 
the  situation  of  the  giver  and  receiver  of  the  sum- 
mons in  regard  to  each  other. 

A  study  of  the  signs  which  distinguish  these  dif- 
ferent shades  will  teach  us  the  analysis  of  gesture. 

Aside  from  simple  interpellation,  the  series  passes 
successively  from  gratitude,  devotion,  etc.,  to  anger, 
menace  and  conflict,  leaving  the  soul  at  the  point 
where  it  is  subdued  and  asks  forgiveness. 

The  passional  or  fugitive  type  forms  the  constant 
subject  of  the  study  of  this  series. 


i50  articulate  language. 

The  Series  of  Gestures  Applied  to  the  Senti- 
ments Oftenest  Expressed  by  the  Orator. 

FIRST    GESTURE. 

Interpellation, 

Interpellation  embraces  five  steps  : 

The  first  consists  in  elevating  the  shoulder  in 
token  of  affection.  If  the  right  shoulder,  as  in 
figure  2  with  the  right  leg  weak. 

The  second  step  consists  in  a  rotary  movement  of 
the  arm,  its  object  being  to  present  the  epicondyle 
(elbow-joint)  to  the  interlocutor.  For  this  reason 
the  epicondyle  is  called  the  eye  of  the  arm. 

The  third  stage  consists  in  substituting  the  articu- 
lation of  the  wrist  for  the  epicondyle.  In  making 
the  forward  movement  of  the  body,  the  epicondyle 
must  resume  its  natural  place. 

The  fourth  step  consists  in  extending  the  hand 
toward  the  speaker  in  such  a  way  as  to  present  to 
him  the  extremities  of  the  fingers. 

The  fifth  step  is  formed  by  a  rapid  rotation  of  the 
hand. 

SECOND    GESTURE. 

Thanks — Affectionate  and  Ceremonious, 
This  gesture  consists  of  six  steps : 

1.  Consists  in  Hfting  the  hand  and  lowering  the 
head. 

2.  Consists  in  raising  the  hand  to  the  hip. 

3.  The  head  inclines  to  one  side,  and  the  elbow 


SERIES    OF   GESTURES    FOR   EXERCISES.        151 

at  the  same  time  rises  to  aid  the  hand  in  reaching 
the  Hps. 

4.  In  this,  the  head  resumes  its  normal  position, 
while  the  elbow  is  lowered  to  bring  back  the  hand 
to  the  same  position. 

5.  In  this,  the  hand  passes  from  the  horizontal  to 
the  vertical  position,  rounding  toward  the  arm. 

6.  In  this,  the  arm  is  developed,  and  then  the 
hand. 

THIRD   GESTURE. 

Attraction. 
In  this  gesture  there  are  three  steps : 

1.  The  hand  turns  toward  the  interlocutor  with  an 
appealing  aspect. 

2.  The  hand  opens  like  a  fan  with  the  little  finger 
tending  toward  the  chest. 

3.  The  elbow  is  turned  outward,  and  the  hand 
passes  toward  the  breast. 

FOURTH   GESTURE. 

Surprise  and  Assurance, 

1.  This  consists  in  elevating  the  shoulders,  open- 
ing the  eyes  and  mouth  and  raising  the  eyebrow ; 
the  whole  in  token  of  surprise. 

2.  Raise  the  passive  hand  above  the  chin,  making 
it  turn  around  the  wrist. 

3.  The  hand  still  passive,  is  directed  toward  the 
person  addressed,  the  elbow  being  pressed  against 
the  body. 


152  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

4.  The  arm  is  gradually  extended  toward  the  per- 
son addressed,  while  the  hand  is  given  an  opposite 
direction ;  that  is,  the  palm  of  the  hand  is  toward 
him. 

FIFTH   GESTURE. 

Devotion. 
This  gesture  embraces  seven  movements : 

1 .  This  consists  in  raising  the  passive  hand  to  the 
level  of  the  other  hand,  but  in  an  inverse  direction. 

2.  This  consists  in  turning  back  the  hc.nd  toward 
one's  self. 

3.  This  consists  in  drawing  the  elbows  to  the 
body,  and  placing  the  hands  on  the  chest. 

4.  This  is  produced  by  taking  a  step  backward, 
and  turning  a  third  to  one  side ;  during  the  execu- 
tion of  this  step,  the  elbows  are  raised,  arid  the  head 
is  lowered. 

5.  This  consists  in  drawing  the  elbows  near  the 
body,  and  placing  the  hands  above  the  shoulders. 

6.  This  consists  in  developing  the  arms. 

7.  This  consists  in  developing  the  hands. 

SIXTH   GESTURE. 

Interrogative  Surprise, 
This  surprise  is  expressed  in  two  movements: 

1.  This  is  wholly  facial. 

2.  This  is  made  by  advancing  the  hand  and  draw- 
ing the  head  backward. 


SERIES  OF  GESTURES  FOR  EXERCISES.   1 53 

SEVENTH    GESTURE. 

Reiterated  Interrogation, 
This  gesture   signifies:    I  do  not  understand,  I 
cannot  explain  your  conduct  to  me. 
It  embraces  five  steps : 

1 .  Tliis  consists  in  placing  both  hands  beneath  the 
chin,  and  violently  elevating  the  shoulders. 

2.  This  consists  in  bringing  the  hands  to  the  level 
of  the  chest,  as  if  in  search  of  something  there. 

3.  This  consists  in  extending  both  hands  toward 
the  interlocutor,  as  if  to  show  him  that  they  contain 
nothing. 

4.  This  consists  in  extending  one  hand  in  the 
opposite  direction,  and  letting  the  head  and  body 
follow  the  hand. 

5.  This  consists  in  turning  the  head  vehemently 
toward  the  interlocutor,  and  suddenly  lowering  the 
shoulders. 

EIGHTH    GESTURE. 

Aftger, 
This  gesture  is  made  in  three  movements : 

1.  This  consists  in  raising  the  arm. 

2.  This  consists  in  catching  hold  of  the  sleeve. 

3.  This  consists  in  carrying  the  clenched  hand  to 
the  breast,  and  drawing  back  the  other  arm. 

NINTH    GESTURE. 

Menace, 
This    gesture   consists    of   a   preparatory   move- 
ment, which  is  made  by  lowering  the  hand  while  the 


154  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

arm  is  outstretched  toward  the  interlocutor,  then  the 
finger  is  extended,  and  the  hand  is  outstretched  in 
menace. 

The  eye  follows  the  finger  as  it  would  follow  a 
pistol ;  this  occasions  a  reversal  of  the  head  propor- 
tional to  that  of  the  hand. 

TENTH    GESTURE. 

An  Order  for  Leaving, 
This  is  executed : 

1.  By  turning  around  on  the  free  limb, 

2.  By  carrying  the  body  with  it. 

3.  By  executing  a  one-fifth  sideward  movement — 
the  right  leg  very  weak.  All  these  movements  are 
made  by  retaining  the  gesture  of  the  preceding  men- 
ace. Then  only  the  menacing  hand  is  turned  in- 
ward at  the  height  of  the  eye,  at  the  moment  when 
it  is  about  to  pass  the  line  occupied  by  the  head ; 
the  elbow  is  raised  to  allow  the  hand  a  downward 
movement,  which  ends  in  an  indication  of  departure. 
In  this  indication  the  hand  is  absolutely  reversed, 
that  is,  It  is  in  pronation.  Then  only  does  the  head, 
which  has  hitherto  been  lowered,  rise  through  the 
opposition  of  the  extended  arm. 

ELEVENTH    GESTURE. 

Reiteration. 
I.  The  whole  body  tends  toward  the  hand  which" 
Is  posed  above  the  head.     The  right  leg  passes  from 
tveak  to  strong. 


SERIES   OF   GESTURES    FOR   EXERCISES.        1 55 

2.  The  head  is  turned  backward  toward  the  inter- 
locutor. 

3.  It  rises. 

4.  The  arm  extends. 

5.  The  hand  in  supination  gives  intimation  of  the 
order. 

TWELFTH    GESTURE, 

Fright. 

The  right  hand  pendent.  The  left  hand  rises. 
Tremor. 

The  first  movement  is  executed  in  one-third ;  the 
body  gently  passes  into  the  fourth,  and  as  the  fifth 
is  being  accomplished,  the  arm  is  thrust  forward  as 
if  to  repel  the  new  object  of  terror. 

At  this  moment  a  metamorphose  seems  to  take 
place,  and  the  object  which  had  occasioned  the 
fright,  seems  to  be  transfigured  and  to  become  the 
subject  of  an  affectionate  impulse.  The  hands 
extend  toward  this  object  not  to  repel  it,  but  to  im- 
plore it  to  remain ;  it  seems  to  become  more  and 
more  ennobled,  and  to  assume  in  the  astonished  eyes 
of  the  actor,  a  celestial  form  —  it  is  an  angel.  There- 
fore the  body  recoils  anew  one-fourth;  the  hands 
fall  back  in  token  of  acquiescence  ;  then,  while  draw- 
ing near  the  body,  they  extend  anew  toward  the 
angel  {Jiere  d  third  in  token  of  affection  and  venera- 
tion).  Then  a  prayer  is  addressed  to  it,  and  again 
the  arms  extend  toward  it  in  entreaty.  ^ Here  the 
orator  falls  upon  his  knees,) 


156  ARTICULATE   LANGUAGE. 

The  series  can  be  executed  beginning  with  the 
right  arm  or  the  left,  being  careful  to  observe  the 
initial  and  principal  movement,  with  the  arms  at 
the  side  where  the  scene  opened.  This  gives  the 
same  play  of  organs  only  in  an  inverse  sense. 

Important  Remarks. 

Should  any  student  despair  of  becoming  familiar 
with  our  method,  we  give  him  three  pieces  of  ad- 
vice, all  easy  of  application  : 

1.  Never  speak  without  having  first  expressed 
what  you  would  say  by  gesture.  Gesture  must 
always  precede  speech. 

2.  Avoid  parallelism  of  gesture.  The  opposition 
of  the  agents  is  necessary  to  equilibrium,  to  har- 
mony. 

3.  Retain  the  same  gesture  for  the  same  senti- 
ment. In  saying  the  same  thing  the  gesture  should 
not  be  changed. 

Should  the  student  limit  himself  to  the  application 
of  these  three  rules,  he  will  not  regret  this  study 
of  the 

Practice  of  the  Art  of  Oratory. 


APPENDIX. 


THE   SYMBOLISM  OF  COLORS   APPLIED   TO  THE  ART 
OF   ORATORY. 

We  close  this  book  with  an  appendix  which  will 
serve  for  ornament.  Before  delivering  up  a  suite 
of  rooms,  we  are  wont  to  embellish  them  with  rich 
decorations.  Architects  usually  color  their  plans. 
We  also  wish  to  give  color  to  our  criterion,  by  ex- 
plaining the  symbolism  of  colors. 


GENUS. 

SPECIES. 

1 

3 

2 

II 

Concentric. 

i-II 

Ecc-Conc. 
Violet-blue. 

3-n 

Norm. -Cone. 
Green-blue. 

2-II 

Cone. -Cone. 

Indigo. 

Normal. 
Ill 

i-III 
Ecc.-Norm. 
Red-yellow. 

3-ni 

Norm. -Norm. 
Yellow. 

2-III 

Cone. -Norm. 
Green-yellow. 

Eccentric. 
I 

I-I 

Ecc-Ecc. 
Red. 

3-1 

Norm.-Ecc. 
Yellow-red. 

2-1 

Conc.-Ecc. 
Violet-red. 

158  APPENDIX. 

In  the  literary  world,  color  gives  forms  of  speech 
consecrated  by  frequent  usage.  Thus  we  very  often 
say :  a  florid  style,  a  brilliant  orator.  This  figurative 
language  signifies  that  in  order  to  shine,  the  orator 
must  be  adorned  with  the  lustre  of  flowers.  And  as 
one  flower  excels  others  and  pleases  us  by  the 
beauty  of  its  colors,  so  the  orator  must  excel,  and 
please  by  the  brilliant  shades  of  his  diction.  It  is 
as  impossible  to  give  renown  to  a  monotonous  and 
colorless  orator  as  to  a  faded,  discolored  flower. 
Would  you  give  to  the  phenomena  of  your  or- 
ganism this  beautiful  corolla  of  the  flower  of  your 
garden,  throw  your  glance  upon  nature. 

Nature  speaks  to  the  eye  through  an  enchanting 
variety  of  colors,  and  these  colors  in  turn  teach  man 
how  he  may  himself  speak  to  the  eyes.  The  whole 
man  might  recognize  himself  under  the  smiling 
emblem  of  colors.  Imagine  him  in  whatever  state 
you  will,  a  color  will  give  you  the  secret  of  his 
aspirations.  And  so  it  has  been  easy  for  us  to  show 
you  the  orator  imaged  in  this  colored  chart,  and  we 
shall  have  no  trouble  in  justifying  our  choice  of 
colors. 

Since  man,  as  to  his  soul,  presents  himself  in  three 
states  :  the  sensitive,  intellectual  and  moral ;  and  in 
his  organism  in  the  eccentric,  concentric  and  normal 
states ;  a  prioriy  you  may  conclude  that  nature  has 
three  colors  to  symbolize  the  three  states,  and  ex- 
perience will  not  contradict  you. 

In  fact,  red,  yellow  and  blue  are  the  primitive 


SYMBOLISM   OF   COLORS.  I  $9 

colors.  All  others  are  derived  from  these  three 
rudimentary  colors. 

Why  have  we  painted  the  column  that  corresponds 
to  the  life  red?  Because  red  is  the  color  of  blood, 
and  the  life  is  in  the  blood.  But  life  is  the  fountain 
of  strength  and  power.  Hence  red  is  the  proper 
symbol  of  strength  and  power  in  God.  in  man  and 
in  the  demon. 

Why  blue  in  the  column  of  the  concentric  state, 
the  mind?  Because  blue,  from  its  transparency,  is 
most  soothing  to  our  eyes. 

Why  yellow  in  the  column  of  the  soul?  Because 
yellow  has  the  color  of  flame ;  it  is  the  true  symbol 
of  a  soul  set  on  fire  by  love.  Yellow  is,  then,  the 
emblem  of  pure  love  and  of  impure  flames. 

Why  not  use  white  in  our  chart?  Because  white 
is  incandescence  in  the  highest  degree.  We  say 
of  iron  that  it  is  at  a  red  or  a  white  heat.  But  in 
this  world  it  is  rare  to  see  a  heart  at  a  white  heat. 
Earthly  thermometers  do  not  mark  this  degree 
of  heat. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  red,  yellow  and  blue  are 
the  three  elementary  colors,  whose  union  gives  birth 
to  all  the  varieties  that  delight  our  eyes.  We  have 
proof  of  this  in  one  of  nature's  most  beautiful  phe- 
nomena—  the  rainbow. 

The  rainbow  is  composed  of  seven  colors.  Here 
we  distinguish  the  red,  yellow  and  blue  in  all  their 
purity ;  then  from  the  fusion  of  these  three  primary 
colors,  we  have  violet,  orange,  green  and  indigo. 


l6o  API^ENDIX. 

This  is  the  order  in  which  the  seven  colors  of  the 
rainbow  appear  to  us : 

Violet  (r^^),  orange  (^yellow)  ^  green  {blue)^  indigo. 
Orange  is  composed  of  yellow  and  red.  Yellow 
mixed  with  blue,  produces  green.  Blue  when  satu- 
rated, becomes  indigo.  Upon  closer  investigation, 
we  may  easily  find  the  nine  shades  which  correspond 
perfectly  to  the  nine  operations  of  our  faculties,  and 
to  the  nine  functions  of  angelic  minds. 

By  complicating  and  blending  the  mixture  of 
these  colors,  we  shall  have  all  the  tints  that  make 
nature  so  delightful  a  paradise. 

The  seven  notes  of  music  sound  in  accord  with 
the  seven  colors  of  the  rainbow.  There  is  a  broth- 
erhood between  the  seven  notes  and  the  seven  colors. 

The  voice-apparatus,  with  that  of  speech  and  ges- 
ture, is  for  the  orator  a  pallet  like  that  upon  which 
the  painter  prepares  and  blends  those  colors  which, 
under  the  brush  of  a  Raphael,  would  at  once  glow 
forth  in  a  masterpiece. 

Delsarte's  criterion  is  true ;  still  more,  it  is  beauti- 
ful, especially  so  with  its  brilliant  adornment  of  the 
colors  of  the  rainbow. 

We  verify  our  judgment  by  an  explanation  of  the 
colored  chart. 

As  may  be  seen,  this  chart  is  an  exact  reproduc- 
tion of  the  criterion  explained  at  the  beginning  of 
this  book,  only  we  have  adorned  it  with  colors  anal- 
ogous to  the  different  states  of  the  soul  that  art  is 
called  upon  to  reproduce. 


SYMBOLISM   OF   COLORS.  l6l 

Beginning  with  the  three  transverse  columns  cor- 
responding to  the  geftus,  we  have  painted  the  lower 
column  red,  the  middle  column  yellow,  and  the  upper 
one  blue.  These  are  the  three  colors  that  symbol- 
ize the  life,  soul  and  mind,  as  well  as  the  genera. 

Passing  to  the  vertical  columns  which  correspond 
to  species,  we  have  painted  the  first  column  red,  the 
second  yellow,  and  the  third  blue,  passing  from  left 
to  right.  The  blending  of  these  colors  produces  the 
variety  of  shades  we  might  have  in  this  representa* 
tion. 

Blue  added  to  blue  gives  indigo  ;  blue  with  yellow 
gives  a  deep  green ;  with  red,  violet.  Yellow  passed 
over  to  the  middle  column,  gives  bright  green  upon 
blue ;  pure  yellow,  when  passed  upon  yellow,  and 
orange  upon  red. 

Thus  pure  red  will  be  the  expression  of  the  sen- 
sitive state  or  the  life.  Orange  will  render  soul  from 
life,  and  violet  will  be  the  symbol  of  mind  from  life. 

Applying  this  process  of  examination  to  the  two 
other  columns,  we  shall  know  by  one  symbolic  color, 
what  the  soul  wishes  at  the  present  hour,  and  these 
same  colors  will,  besides,  serve  to  regulate  the  atti- 
tude of  our  organs. 

Honor  and  thanks  to  the  genius  which  gives  us 
this  criterion,  where  is  reflected  the  harmony  of  all 
worlds ! 


II 


EPILOGUE. 


In  this  rational  grammar  of  the  art  of  oratory,  I 
have  given  the  rules  of  all  the  fine  arts.  All  arts 
have  the  same  principle,  the  same  means  and  the 
same  end.  They  are  akin,  they  interpenetrate,  they 
mutually  aid  and  complete  each  other.  They  have 
a  common  scope  and  aim.  Thus,  music  needs  speech 
and  gesture.  Painting  and  sculpture  derive  their 
merit  from  the  beauty  of  attitudes.  There  is  no 
masterpiece  outside  the  rules  here  laid  down. 

It  is  not  enough  to  know  the  rules  of  the  art  of 
oratory.  He  who  would  become  an  orator,  must 
make  them  his  own.  Even  this  is  not  enough  for 
the  free  movement  of  the  agents  which  reveal  the 
mind,  the  soul  and  the  life.  The  method  must  be 
so  familiar  as  to  seem  a  second  nature.  Woe  to  the 
orator  if  calculation  and  artifice  be  divined  in  his 
speech  !  How  shun  this  quicksand  ?  By  labor  and 
exercise.  The  instruments  and  the  manner  of  using 
them  are  in  your  hands,  student  of  oratory.  Set 
about  your  work.  Practice  gymnastics,  but  let  them 
be  gymnastics  in  the  service  of  the  soul,  in  the  serv 


1 64  EPILOGUE. 

ice  of  noble  thoughts  and  generous  sentiments  — 
divine  gymnastics  for  the  service  of  God. 

Renew  your  nature.  Lay  aside  the  swaddling- 
bands  of  your  imperfections,  conform  your  lives  to 
the  highest  ideals  of  uprightness  and  truth.  Exercise 
your  voice,  your  articulation  and  your  gestures.  If 
need  be,  like  Demosthenes,  place  pebbles  in  your 
mouth  ;  repair  like  that  great  orator  to  the  sea-shore, 
brave  the  fury  of  the  billows,  accustom  yourself  to 
the  tumult  and  roar  of  assemblies.  Do  not  fear  the 
fracture  or  dislocation  of  your  limbs  as  you  seek  to 
render  them  supple,  to  fashion  them  after  the  model, 
the  type  you  have  before  your  eyes.  Labor  omnia 
vine  it. 

In  any  event,  be  persevering.  Novitiate  and  ap- 
prenticeship in  any  profession,  are  difficult.  In 
every  state  the  bitterness  of  trial  is  to  be  expected. 
To  arrive  at  initiation  has  its  joys,  to  arrive  at  per- 
fection is  a  joy  supreme.  Beneath  the  rind  of  this 
mechanism,  this  play  of  organs,  dwells  a  vivifying 
spirit.  Beneath  these  tangible  forms  of  art,  the 
Divine  lies  hidden,  and  will  be  revealed.  And  the 
soul  that  has  once  known  the  Divine,  feels  pain  no 
longer,  but  is  overwhelmed  with  joy. 

Art  is  the  richest  gift  of  heaven  to  earth.  The 
true  artist  does  not  grow  old ;  he  is  never  too  old 
to  feel  the  charm  of  divine  beauty  The  more  a 
soul  has  been  deceived,  the  more  it  has  been 
chastened  by  suffering,  the  more  susceptible  it  is  to 
the  benefits  of  art     This  is  why  music  soothes  our 


EPILOGUE.  165 

sorrows  and  doubles  our  joys.  Song  is  the  treasure 
of  the  poor. 

Return,  then,  with  renewed  enthusiasm  to  your 
work !  The  end  is  worth  the  pains.  The  human 
organism  is  a  marvelous  instrument  which  God  has 
given  for  our  use.  It  is  a  harmonious  lyre,  with 
nine  chords,  each  rendering  various  sounds.  These 
three  chords  for  the  voice,  and  three  for  both 
gesture  and  speech,  have  their  thousand  resonances 
at  the  service  of  the  life,  the  soul  and  the  mind. 
As  these  chords  vibrate  beneath  your  fingers,  they 
will  give  voice  to  the  emotions  of  the  life,  to  the 
jubilations  of  the  heart  and  the  raptures  of  the 
mind.  This  delightful  concert  will  lend  enchant- 
ment to  your  passing  years,  throwing  around  them 
all  the  attractions  of  the  Good,  the  True,  and  the 
Beautiful. 

We  may  well  salute  the  three  Graces  and  the 
nine  Muses  as  gracious  emblems,  but  it  is  far 
better  to  discern  in  art,  the  reflected  image  of  the 
triple  celestial  hierarchy  with  its  nine  angel  cho- 
ruses. 

Honor,  then,  to  the  fine  arts  !  Glory  to  eloquence  ! 
Praise  to  the  good  man  who  knows  how  to  speak 
well !  Blessed  be  the  great  orator !  Like  our 
tutelary  an^el,  he  will  show  us  the  path  that  con- 
ducts or  leads  back  to  God, 


PART  FOURTH. 


ARNAUD  ON   DELSARTE. 


THE  DELSARTE  SYSTEM. 

BY 

ANGELIQUE   ARNAUD, 

{Fupil  of  Delsarte). 
Translated   by  ABBY   L.    ALGER. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  BASES  OF  THE  SCIENCE. 

Delsarte  published  no  book  upon  art.  The  bases 
of  the  science  which  he  created  are  contained  in  a 
synthetical  table.  Other  tables  develop  each  branch 
of  it  considered  separately. 

Starting  from  an  undeniable  law — that  which 
regulates  the  constitution  of  man, — Delsarte  applies 
it  to  aesthetics ;  he  designates  man  as  "  the  object 
of  art,"  and  groups  in  series  the  organic  agents  that 
co-operate  in  the  manifestation  of  human  thought, 
sentiment  and  passion;  declaring  the  purpose  of 
these  manifestations,  now  become  artistic,  to  be  the 
amelioration  of  our  being  by  throwing  into  relief 
and  light  the  splendors  of  moral  beauty  and  the 
horrors  of  vice. 

Delsarte  defines  art  in  several  ways.  He  has 
been  reproached  for  his  over-amplitude  of  definition, 
and  his  development  of  it  in  a  sense  too  metaphysi- 
cal for  a  science  which  he  himself  calls  "  positive." 
I  give  here  only  such  definitions  as  seem  to  me 
most  clear  and  important 

"Art  is  at  once  the  knowledge,  the  possession 
and  the  free  direction  of  the  agents  by  virtue  of 
which  are  revealed  the  life,  soul  and  mind.  It  is 
the  appropriation  of  the  sign  to  the  thing.     It  is  the 


172  ARNAUD  ON  DELSARTE. 

relation  of  the  beauties  scattered  through  nature  to 
a  superior  type.  It  is  not,  therefore,  the  mere 
imitation  of  nature." 

The  word  life^  in  the  sense  employed  above,  is  the 
equivalent  of  se7tsationy  oi physical  manifestations. 

Man  being  the  object  of  art,  it  is  from  the  work- 
ing of  the  various  faculties  of  the  human  organism 
that  Delsarte  deduces  the  task  of  the  artist;  as 
from  the  knowledge  of  the  essential  modalities  of 
the  egOy  he  deduces  his  law  of  general  aesthetics. 

Delsarte  teaches,  therefore,  that  man  is  a  triplicity 
of  persons ;  that  is,  he  contains  in  his  indestructible 
unity,  three  principles  or  aspects,  which  he  calls 
life^  soul  and  mind ;  in  other  words,  physicaly  moral 
and  intellectual  persons. 

In  this  statement  this  master  agrees  with  the 
philosophers  who  give  a  triphcity  of  essential  prin- 
ciples as  the  base  of  ontology.  Pierre  Leroux 
names  them  as  follows:  sensation^  sentiment^  con- 
sciousness. 

That  which  is  personal  to  Delsarte  is  the  deriva- 
tion of  the  law  of  aesthetics  from  this  conception  of 
being. 

The  primal  faculties  once  ascertained,  he  devotes 
himself  to  an  analysis  of  the  organism ;  he  describes 
the  harmony  of  each  of  these  faculties  with  the 
apparatus  which  serves  it  as  agent  for  manifesting 
itself,  and  demonstrates  the  fitness  of  each  organ  for 
the  task  assigned  it.  The  master  establishes  that 
the  inflections  of  the  voice  betray  more  especially 


THE  BASES   OF  THE   SCIENCE.  1 73 

the  sensitive  nature ;  that  gesture  is  the  interpreter 
of  emotion ;  that  articulation — a  special  element  of 
speech — is  in  the  direct  service  of  intelligence  and 
thought.  He  gave  the  name  of  vocal  to  the  active 
apparatus  of  sensation;  dynamic  to  that  of  senti- 
ment ;  buccal  to  that  of  articulation. 

From  the  union  of  the  faculties  and  their  agents 
arise  three  modes  of  expression :  the  language  of 
affectio7ty  the  language  of  ellipsis  (or  gesture)  and 
the  language  of  philosophy.  They  respond  to  the 
three  states  which  Delsarte  recognizes  in  man,  and 
which  the  artist  is  to  translate :  the  sensitive  state y 
corresponding  to  the  life ;  the  moral  state,  to  the 
soul ;  the  intellectual  state,  to  the  mind. 

But  this  division  into  three  modalities  or  into  three 
states  is  far  from  giving  the  number  of  the  manifes- 
tations of  being.  Nature  is  not  reduced  to  this 
indigence.  From  the  fusion  of  these  three  states, 
in  varying  and  incessant  combination,  and  from  the 
predominance  of  one  of  the  primitive  modalities, 
whether  accidental  or  permanent,  countless  indivi- 
dualities are  formed,  each  with  its  personal  constitu- 
tion, its  shades  of  difference  of  education,  habits, 
age,  character,  etc. 

It  seems  at  the  first  glance  as  if  the  mind  must  be 
confused  by  these  varieties,  whose  possible  number 
fades  into  infinity ;  but  the  teacher  does  not  open 
this  labyrinth  to  his  disciples  without  providing  them 
with  a  clue. 

Independently  of  these  modalities,  of  these  states, 


174  ARNAUD  ON  DELSARTE. 

which  form  the  basis  of  the  system,  Delsarte  trat^es 
triune  subdivisions,  which  serve  as  a  point  of  con- 
vergence ;  thus  the  intermediary  rays  of  the  compass 
or  mariner's  card  are  multipHed,  and  receive  special 
names,  without  ceasing  to  belong  to  one  of  the  four 
cardinal  points. 

Whatever,  for  instance,  may  be  the  tendency  of 
the  individual  whom  we  desire  to  portray,  or  to 
represent  by  any  art  whatsoever,  we  can  think  of 
him  in  his  normal  state,  as  well  as  in  a  concentric  or 
eccentric  state :   this  is  a  first  distinction. 

Each  of  these  states  is  itself  subject  to  shades 
of  difference,  to  modifications.  The  normal  state 
of  a  diplomat  and  that  of  an  artist  could  not  be  the 
same.  The  one,  by  the  very  effect  of  his  profes- 
sion, will  incline  to  concentration;  the  other  will 
tend  to  expansion,  if  not  to  eccentration.  Hence  a 
simple  normal  state  which  is  the  most  common ;  a 
normal-concentric  state,  a  normal-eccentric  state: 
here  we  have  a  second  distinction. 

Delsarte,  in  order  to  avoid  confusion  between  the 
word  state  applied  to  primordial  modalities — which 
he  defines  as  sensitive,  moral  and  intellectual  states, 
— often  uses  the  word  element  in  place  of  that  of 
state  in  speaking  of  concentration,  ecce7itration  and 
normality,  which,  in  this  case,  he  also  calls  calm ; 
but,  in  teaching,  he  was  always  accustomed  to  use 
these  more  exact  terms:  normal  state,  concentric 
state,  eccentric  state. 

These  differences  may  occur  in  regard  to  each  of 


THE  BASES   OF  THE  SCIENCE.  1 75 

the  other  terms.  Thus  we  may  have  the  simple 
concentric  state,  the  concentro-concentric  state,  etc. 

It  is  upon  this  mutual  interpenetration  of  the 
various  states  in  the  triple  unity,  that  the  master 
founds  the  idea  which  dominates  and  pervades  his 
whole  system ;  the  three  isolated  and  independent 
terms  do  not,  to  his  thinking,  constitute  the  integral- 
ity of  the  human  ego.  To  constitute,  according  to 
Delsarte's  theory,  three,  the  vital  number,  it  must, 
by  its  very  essence,  and  by  inherent  force,  raise  itself 
to  its  multiple  nine.  This  is  what  the  master  calls 
the  ninefold  accord. 

Medicine — a  science  which  also  derives  its  justifi- 
cation from  the  human  organism — from  certain 
points  of  view  affords  us  analogies  to  this  mixture 
of  primordial  components;  for  example,  nervous 
and  sanguine  temperaments  which  are  blended  in 
the  sanguo-nervous,  etc. 

If  we  refer  to  our  own  faculties,  does  it  not  strike 
us  indeed,  that  neither  life — nor  sensation — nor  senti- 
ment, nor  intellect  can  manifest  itself  without  the 
aid  of  its  congeners  or  co-associates  ? 

Is  intelligence  evident  elsewhere  than  in  a  sensi- 
tive being  (life)  ?  And  even  when  considering  the 
most  abstract  things,  does  it  not  bear  witness  of  its 
taste,  its  power  of  choice  (sentiment)  ?  Can  senti- 
ment be  absolutely  disengaged  from  impression 
(life)  ?  And  if  it  is  not  always  under  the  sway  of  the 
idea,  is  it  not  certain  that  it  gives  rise  to  it,  by  pro- 
voking observation  and  reflection  (intellect)  ? 


1/6  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

Finally,  can  an  adult — save  in  the  case  of  absolute 
idiocy — exist  by  sensitive  life  alone  outside  of  all 
sentiment  and  all  thought  (soul,  intellect)  ? 

It  is  by  the  harmony  of  the  modalities  among 
themselves,  and  the  contribution  of  each  to  the 
unity,  that  every  individual  type  is  formed.  Del- 
sarte  thought  that  he  could  fix  their  numerical 
scale ;  but  he  was  not  permitted  to  carry  his  scien- 
tific studies  thus  far ;  still,  it  is  not  indispensable  to 
art,  which  demands  above  all  things  very  marked 
types,  that  verification  should  be  carried  to  its 
farthest  limits.  It  will  not  be  difficult,  guided  by 
the  knowledge  which  Delsarte  has  left  us,  to 
classify  artistic  personages  as  physical,  intellectual 
and  moral  or  sentimental  types;  and,  in  the  same 
category,  to  differentiate  those  belonging  to  the 
concentric  state  from  those  falling  more  particularly 
into  the  eccentric  or  normal  states  :  the  Don  Juans, 
Othellos,  Counts  Ory,  etc.  Delsarte,  in  practice, 
excelled  in  characterizing  these  shades  of  difference. 

These  prolegomena  would  not  perhaps  alone 
suffice  to  give  this  teacher  a  claim  to  the  title  of 
creator  of  a  science.  Although  they  give  the  theory 
of  the  system,  they  are  far  from  containing  all  its 
developments.     But  Delsarte   did  not  stop  here. 

In  appropriate  language — wherein  new  words  are 
not  lacking  for  the  new  science — he  takes  apart 
each  of  the  agents  of  the  organism,  enumerated 
above;  he  examines  them  in  their  details,  and 
assigns  them  their  part  in  the  sensitive,  moral,  or 


THE  BASES  OF  THE  SCIENCE.  1 7/ 

intellectual  transmission  with  which  they  are  charged. 
Thus  gesture — the  interpreter  of  sentiment-— is  pro- 
duced by  means  of  the  head,  torso  and  limbs ;  and 
in  the  functions  of  the  head  are  comprised  the 
physiognomic  movements,  also  classified  and  de- 
scribed, with  their  proper  significance,  such  as  anger, 
hate,  contemplation,  etc., — and  the  same  with  the 
other  agents. 

Each  part  observed  gives  rise  to  a  special  chart, 
where  we  see,  for  instance,  what  should  be  the  posi- 
tion of  the  eye  in  exaltation,  aversion,  intense  appli- 
cation of  the  mind,  astonishment,  etc.  The  same 
labor  is  given  to  the  arms,  the  hands  and  the  atti- 
tudes of  the  body,  with  the  mark,  borrowed  from 
nature,  of  the  slightest  movement,  partial  or  total, 
corresponding  to  the  sensation,  the  sentiment,  the 
thought  that  the  artist  wishes  to  express. 

I  hope  that  these  works  may  yet  be  recovered 
entire,  for  the  master  was  lavish  of  them,  and  that 
they  may  be  given  to  the  public* 

An  exact  science  at  first  sight  appears  contradic- 
tory to  art.  Will  it  not  diminish  its  limits,  *  *  * 
trammel  its  transports  ?  Will  it  not  prove  hostile  to 
its  liberty  at  every  point?  *  *  *  Will  it  not 
check  the  flights  of  its  graceful  fancy,  its  adorable 
caprice? 

No,  indeed !  as  I  said  in  regard  to  the  ideal,  the 
theories  of  Delsarte,  far  from  hampering  the  free 

*  Many  of  these  papers  were  entrusted  by  the  iamily  to  a  former  pupil  of  Delsart^ 
who  took  them  to  America. 


178  ARNAUD   ON   DET.SARTE, 

expansion  of  art,  do  but  enlarge  its  horizons,  and 
prepare  a  broader  field  for  its  harmonies.  They 
leave  freedom  to  the  opinions  most  difficult  of 
seizure,  the  most  unforeseen  creations ;  because,  re- 
sponding to  every  faculty  of  being,  this  science, 
while  it  corrects  imagination,  respects  its  legitimate 
power. 

Finally,  what  is  this  science  which  analyzes  every 
spring  and  every  part  brought  to  play  in  the  mani- 
festation of  life?  A  compass  to  guide  us  to  the 
desired  goal ;  a  measure  of  proportion  to  fix  each 
variety  in  the  immensity  of  types ;  a  touchstone  by 
which  to  judge  of  each  man's  vocation. 

But  do  not  let  us  forget  that  if  this  science  holds 
back,  restrains  and  preserves  us  from  parasites, 
*  *  *  if  it  prepares  proper  soil,  and  assists  feebly 
dowered  natures  to  acquire  real  value,  it  cannot  sup- 
ply the  place  of  those  marvelous  talents,  that  person- 
ality, which  showed  us,  in  Delsarte  himself,  the  heights 
to  which  a  dramatic  singer  may  attain.  What  sur- 
prises and  subjugates  us  in  these  privileged  persons  is 
the  secret  of  nature ;  it  is  not  to  be  written  down, 
not  to  be  demonstrated  ;  this  unknown  quantity,  this 
mystery,  reveals  itself  at  its  own  time  by  flashes, 
and  with  different  degrees  of  intensity  during  the 
career  of  the  same  artist.  Some  have  thought  to 
explain  the  prodigy  by  that  superior  instinct  known 
as  intuition ;  but  the  discovery  of  the  word  does  not 
open  the  arcanum. 

I  have   said    enough,  I   hope,  in  regard  to  the 


THE  BASES  OF  THE  SCIENCE.  179 

science  created  by  Delsarte,  to  put  upon  the  track 
such  minds  as  are  apt  for  the  subject,  and  endowed 
with  sufficient  penetration  to  assimilate  it;  but  it 
must  not  be  disguised  that  even  should  the  whole 
work  be  collected  together,  the  science  must  still 
await  its  examination,  its  verification  and  its  com 
plements ;  for  a  science  at  its  birth  is  like  a  pro- 
gram given  out  for  the  study  of  present  and  future 
generations.  Delsarte  was  still  working  on  his  to 
the  last  years  of  his  life.  Every  day  he  gained  fresh 
insight;  he  added  branches  and  accessories.  Yet 
the  criticisms  of  details  which  will  come  later — even 
when  they  are  justified, — will  not  rob  the  inventor 
of  the  glory  of  his  scientific  discovery.  Let  genius 
invent,  scholars  pursue  its  discoveries  i  *  *  * 
If  genius  works  alone,  scientists  work  hand  in  hand 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  METHOD. 

I  have  shown  Delsarte  as  a  composer,  as  pre-emi- 
nently an  artist,  who,  as  a  certain  critic  says,  "  was. 
never  surpassed ;  "  I  have  insisted  upon  the  two 
titles  which  form  his  special  glory :  that  of  revealer 
of  the  laws  of  aesthetics,  and  that  of  creator  of  a 
science  to  support  his  discoveries ;  a  science  whose 
application  relates  particularly  to  the  dramatic  and 
lyric  arts,  although  at  its  base,  and  especially  when 
considered  as  law,  it  embraces  all  the  liberal  arts. 

It  remains  for  me  to  speak  of  his  method,  properly 
so  called ;  of  his  precepts,  his  maxims,  his  opinions 
and  his  judgments ;  of  that,  in  a  word,  which  con- 
stitutes the  personal  manner  of  each  master,  and 
his  mode  of  instruction ;  for  if  the  law  is  single  in 
its  essential  and  constitutive  ideas,  it  radiates  into 
diversity  in  its  individual  manifestations ;  it  has  infi- 
nite possibilities. 

Delsarte  considered  art  as  the  surest,  purest  and 
most  constant  good  in  life.  He  required  much  time 
to  complete  the  education  of  a  pupil,  because  he 
knew  how  long  it  had  taken  him  to  master  the 
methods  of  translating,  through  that  noble  interpre- 
ter, art,  the  best  and  most  sublime  possibilities  of 
the  human  soul ;  and  because  he  knew  as  well  all 


THE   METHOD.  l8l 

that  is  inherent  in  our  nature  of  vice  and  imperfec- 
tion. He  held  that  the  truth,  be  it  good  or  bad,  is 
always  instructive. 

In  regard  to  truth  he  says :  **  A  man  may  possess 
remarkable  qualities,  may  have  grace,  expression, 
charm  and  elegance,  but  they  are  all  as  nothing  if 
he  does  not  interpret  the  truth."  He  desired  the 
artist  to  study  beauty  in  every  form,  to  seek  and  dis- 
cover its  secrets.  He  tells  us  that  he  himself 
studied  the  poses  of  the  statues  of  antiquity  for  fif- 
teen years. 

It  was  in  consequence  of  this  period  of  study, 
assuredly,  that  the  master  condemned  the  parallel 
movement  of  the  limbs  in  gesture,  and  recommended 
attitudes  which  he  called  inverse ;  if,  for  instance, 
the  actor  leans  on  his  left  leg,  the  corresponding 
gesture  must  necessarily  be  entrusted  to  the  right 
arm. 

The  master  taught  that  the  gesture — the  true 
interpreter  of  the  sentiment — should  precede  the 
word.  He  added:  '* The  word  is  but  an  echo,  the 
thought  made  external  and  visible,  the  ambassador 
of  intelligence.  Every  energetic  passion,  every 
deep  sentiment,  is  accordingly  announced  by  a  sign 
of  the  head,  the  hand  or  the  eye,  before  the  word 
expresses  it."  Thus,  the  actor  and  the  orator,  if 
they  do  not  conform  to  this  precept,  have  failed  to 
attain  to  art. 

Delsarte  proves  his  assertion  by  giving  examples, 
somewhat  overdrawn,  in  a  sense  the  inverse  of  thii 


1 82  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

theory.  Nothing  was  more  amusing  than  to  see 
him  execute  one  of  these  dilatory  gestures ;  for 
instance,  this  phrase,  uttered  by  the  lackey  of  some 
comedy,  deHvering  a  menage :  "  Sir,  here  is  a  letter 
which  I  was  told  to  deliver  to  you  at  once."  The 
hand  extending  the  note  unseasonably,  produced  so 
ridiculous  an  effect  that  the  heartiest  laughter  never 
failed  to  follow. 

On  Ellipsis. 

The  preceding  steps  lead  us  to  ellipsis,  which  plays 
an  important  part  in  the  method  of  Delsarte. 

All  the  thoughts  and  sentiments  contained  in  lit- 
erature, in  one  comprehensive  word,  are  entrusted 
to  the  mimic  art  of  the  actor,  whose  essential  agent 
is  gesture.  The  conjunction  and  interjection  are 
alike  elliptical ;  thus  in  the  phrase :  "  Ah  !  *  * 
how  unhappy  I  am  !  *  *  "  "  Ah  !  "  should  imply 
a  painful  situation  before  the  explanatory  phrase 
begins.  In  his  course  of  applied  cesthetics,  Delsarte 
gives  us  the  striking  effects  of  the  elliptic  conjunc- 
tion. 

On  Shades  and  Inflections. 

The  shade,  that  exquisite  portion  of  art,  which  is 
rather  felt  than  expressed,  is  the  characteristic  sign 
of  the  perfection  of  talent ;  it  forms  a  part  of  the 
personality  of  the  artist.  You  may  have  heard  a 
play  twenty  times  with  indifference,  or  a  melody  as 
often,  only  to  be  bored  by  it ;  some  fine  day  a  great 
actor  relieves  the  drama  of  its  chill,  its  apparent 


THE   METHOD.  1 83 

riullity;  the  commonplace  melody  takes  to  itself 
wings  beneath  the.  magic  of  a  well-trained,  expres- 
sive and  sympathetic  voice.  Delsarte  possessed  this 
artistic  talent  to  a  supreme  degree,  and  it  was  one 
of  the  remarkable  parts  of  his  instruction ;  he  had 
established  typical  phrases,  where  the  mere  shade 
of  inflection  gave  an  appropriate  meaning  to  every 
variety  of  impression  and  sentiment  which  can  pos- 
sibly be  expressed  by  any  one  set  of  words.  One 
of  these  phrases  was  this:   "That  is  a  pretty  dog!" 

A  very  talented  young  girl  succeeded  in  giving  to 
these  words  a  great  number  of  different  modulations, 
expressing  endearment,  coaxing,  admiration,  ironi- 
cal praise,  pity  and  affection.  Delsarte,  with  his  far- 
reaching  comprehension,  conceived  of  more  than 
600  ways  of  differentiating  these  examples ;  but  he 
stopped  midway  in  the  execution  of  them,  and  cer- 
tainly no  one  else  will  ever  pursue  this  outline  to  its 
farthest  limits. 

The  second  phrase  was :  **  I  did  not  tell  you  that 
I  would  not !  " 

This  time  the  words  were  given  as  a  study  for 
adults ;  they  lent  themselves  to  other  sentiments ; 
they  revealed,  as  the  case  might  be,  indifference, 
reproach,  encouragement,  the  hesitation  of  a  troubled 
soul,  etc. 

It  was  by  means  of  these  manifold  shades  that 
the  artist-professor  established  characteristic  differ- 
ences in  parts  wherein  so  many  actors  had  seen  but 
the  identical  fact  of  a  similar  passion  or  a  similar 


1 84  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

vice.  To  his  mind,  all  misers  were  not  the  same 
miser,  nor  all  seducers  the  same,seducer.  In  sing- 
ing particularly,  with  what  art  Delsarte  used  the  in- 
flection ! 

On   Vocal  Music. 

In  regard  to  lyric  art  especially,  Delsarte  had  his 
peculiar  and  personal  theories.  Singing  was  not  to 
him  merely  a  means  of  displaying  the  singer's  voice 
or  person;  it  was  a  superior  language,  charged 
with  the  rendition,  in  its  individual  charm,  of  all  the 
greatest  creations  of  literature  and  poetry;  all  the 
sweet,  tender,  or  cruel  sentiments  possible  to  hu- 
manity. 

This  exceptional  singer  attained  his  effects  partly 
by  means  of  certain  modifications  of  the  rhythm, 
which  caused  inattentive  critics  to  say :  **  Delsarte 
does  not  observe  the  measure."  What  they  them- 
selves failed  to  note,  was  that  the  first  beat  was 
always  given  firmly ;  and  that  it  was  in  the  divisions  of 
one  measure,  and  by  subtle  compensations,  that  he 
made  the  difference.  Far  from  having  cause  for  com- 
plaint, the  composer  gained  thereby,  a  more  clear 
expression  of  his  thought,  a  more  persuasive  expan- 
sion of  his  sentiment,  and  the  respiration  appeared 
more  easy.  It  was  something  similar — with  a  greater 
value — to  that  personal  punctuation  with  which  skil- 
ful readers  often  divide  the  text  which  they  translate. 

It  was  particularly  in  recitative,  the  style,  more- 
over,   least   subject  to  precise    laws,    that    Delsarte 


THE  METHOD.  1 85 

used  this  license ;  and  it  was  in  this  style  that  he 
especially  excelled. 

And  is  it  not  in  what  remains  unwritten  that  the 
singer's  true  greatness  is  revealed?  What  dilettante 
has  not  felt  the  power  of  a  more  incisive  attack  of 
the  note;  of  that  prolongation  of  the  note,  held 
imperceptibly,  which,  having  captured  it,  holds  the 
attention  of  the  listener? 

But,  to  hear  these  things,  it  is  not  necessary,  as 
the  saying  is,  "  to  bestride  technique^  In  so  far  as 
the  training  of  the  voice  is  concerned,  Delsarte  gave 
himself  a  scientific  basis.  He  was  the  first  to  think 
that  it  would  be  well  to  know  the  mechanism  of  .the 
organ,  that  it  might  be  used  to  the  best  advantage, 
both  by  avoiding  injurious  methods  of  exercising  it, 
and  by  aiding  the  development  of  the  tone  by  ap- 
propriate work. 

In  his  rooms  were  to  be  seen  imitations  of  the 
larynx — in  pasteboard — of  various  sizes.  His  pu- 
pils, it  seems  to  me,  could  profit  but  little  by  these 
far  from  pleasing  sights.  At  the  utmost  it  increased 
their  confidence  in  the  man  who  desired  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  everything  relating  to  the 
art  which  he  taught.  It  is  to  teachers  particularly 
that  the  introduction  of  this  auxiliary  into  the  study 
of  the  vocal  mechanism  may  have  been  of  some 
value.  I  have  lately  learned  that  several  singing 
teachers  use  these  artificial  larynxes.  Can  priority 
be  claimed  for  Delsarte  ?     I  can  only  affirm  that  he 


1 86  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

refers  to  them  in  a  treatise  signed  by  himself,  and 
dated  in  the  year  1831. 

I  shall  not  enter  into  the  details  of  this  contin- 
gent side  of  the  method ;  the  statement  of  the  facts 
is  enough  to  lead  all  those  who  are  interested,  to 
devote  thought  and  study  to  the  matter.  I  prefer 
to  dwell  upon  the  things  which  Delsarte  carried 
with  him  into  the  grave,  having  written  them  only 
on  the  memories  of  certain  adepts  destined  to  dis- 
appear soon  after  him. 

On   Respiration. 

Delsarte  established  his  theory  of  diaphragmatic 
breathing  in  accordance  with  his  anatomical  knowl- 
edge. It  consists  in  restoring  the  breath,  without 
effort,  from  the  commencing  lift  of  the  diaphragm  to 
the  production  of  the  tone.  He  opposed  it  to  the  cos- 
tal breathings  which  brings  the  lungs  suddenly  into 
action  by  movements  of  the  chest  and  shoulders,  and 
causes  extreme  fatigue.  "  The  chest,"  he  says, 
"  should  be  a  passive  agent;  the  larynx  and  mouth, 
aiding  the  diaphragm,  alone  have  a  right  to  act  in 
breathing;  the  action  of  the  larynx  consists  of  a 
depression,  that  of  the  mouth  should  produce  the 
canalization  (concavity)  of  the  tongue  and  the  ele- 
vation of  the  veil  of  the  palate." 

To  this  first  idea  is  attached  what  the  master 
taught  in  regard  to  the  distinction  between  vital 
breath  and  artificial  breath.  It  is  certain  that 
one  may  sing  with  the  natural  respiration ;  but  it  is 


THE   METHOD.  1 87 

rapidly  exhausted  if  not  augmented  by  additional 
inhalation ;  for  it  results  in  dryness  and  breathless- 
ness,  which  cause  suffering  alike  to  singer  and 
listener.  The  artificial  breath,  on  the  contrary,  pre- 
serves the  ease  and  freshness  of  the   voice. 

On  the  Positio7i  of  the  Tone, 

The  placing  of  the  tone  was  one  of  Delsarte's 
great  anxieties.  According  to  his  theory,  the  attack 
should  be  produced  by  explosioji.  He  rejected  that 
stress  which  induces  the  squeezing  out  of  the 
tone  after  it  is  produced.  The  way  to  avoid  it  is  to 
prepare  rapidly  and  in  anticipation  of  the  emission 
of  the  note. 

These  ideas  demand  oral  elucidation;  but  it  is 
enough  to  declare  them,  for  teachers  and  singers  to 
recognize  their  meaning. 

On  the  Preparation  of  the  Initial  Consonant, 

The  preceding  lines  refer  to  vocalization;  but 
Delsarte  applied  the  same  process  to  pronunciation. 
He  directed  that  the  initial  co7isonant  should  be  pre- 
pared in  the  same  way  as  the  attack  on  the  tone ;  it 
was  thus  produced  distinctly  and  powerfully,  that 
is,  in  less  appreciable  extent  of  time.  Such  is  the 
concentration  of  the  archer  preparing  to  launch  an 
arrow;  of  the  runner  about  to  leap  a  ditch.  The 
master  in  no  case  permitted  that  annoying  compass 
of  the  voice  before  a  consonant,  so  frequently 
employed  by  ordinary  singers.     The  Italians  justly 


1 88  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

translate  this  disagreeable  performance  by  the  word 
strascinato  (dragged  out  or  prolonged). 

Exercises. 

Delsarte  has  been  severely  blamed  for  the  way  in 
which  he  trained  the  voice.  I  have  nothing  to  say 
in  regard  to  those  who  imputed  to  him  physical  and 
barbarous  methods  of  developing  it ;  but  it  may  be 
true  that  he  endangered  it  by  certain  exercises  or 
by  failure  to  cultivate  the  mechanism.  I  do  not 
feel  myself  competent  to  pronounce  upon  this  tech- 
nical point,  but  I  can  give  an  exact  account  of  what 
was  done  in  his  school. 

Delsarte  directed  that  the  tones  should  be  swelled 
on  a  single  note,  E  flat  (of  the  medium) ;  he 
claimed  that  by  strengthening  this  intermediary  note 
the  ascending  and  descending  scales  were  sympa- 
thetically strengthened.  He  thus  avoided,  as  he 
said,  breaking  the  high  treble  notes  by  exercises 
which  would  render  the  cords  too  severely  tense, 
convinced  morever,  that  at  a  given  moment  a  burst 
of  enthusiasm  and  will-power  would  take  the  place 
of  assiduous  practice. 

He  also  taught  that  this  special  exercise  of  the 
medium  would  prevent  the  separation  of  the  regis- 
ters, that  phylloxera  of  the  vocal  organ,  which 
wrecks  so  many  singers,  and  causes  them  so  many 
sorrows.  This  was  the  way  to  gain  that  mixed  voice, 
the  ideal  held  up  to  the  scholars  as  being  the  most 
impressive   and  the  most  exquisite ;   that  which  at 


THE  METHOD.  1 89 

the  same  time  ravished  the  ear  and  charmed  the 
heart. 

This  master  considered  the  chest-voice  as  more 
particularly  physical ;  and  the  head-voice,  it  must 
be  confessed,  is  too  much  like  the  voice  of  a  bird, 
to  awaken  sentiment  and  sympathy. 

Delsarte  himself  possessed  this  mixed  voice ;  in 
him,  it  seemed  to  start  from  the  heart,  and  brought 
tears  to  eyes  which  had  never  known  them.  The 
power  of  that  tone — allied  to  the  perfection  of  shad- 
ing, diction  and  lyric  declamation — caused  every 
listening  soul  to  vibrate  with  latent  emotion  which 
might  never  have  been  waked  to  life  save  by  that 
appeal. 

I  return  to  the  practice  of  swelled  tones  upon  the 
note  E  flat.  This  note  certainly  acquired  broad  and 
powerful  tones  about  which  there  was  nothing  forced, 
and  which  were  most  agreeable.  This  develop- 
ment was  communicated  to  the  neighboring  notes. 
But  did  not  these  advantages  take  from  the  compass 
of  the  scale  ?  If  so,  were  they  a  counterbalance  to 
the  injury?  I  repeat  that  I  dare  not  affirm  anything 
in  this  respect. 

Delsarte,  assuredly,  did  not  give  as  much  space 
to  vocalization  as  other  teachers,  especially  those  of 
the  ItaHan  school. 

It  is  also  undeniable,  that  dramatic  singing — 
the  style  which  he  preferred — is  dangerous  to  the 
vocal  organism ;  particularly  when  one  practices  the 


190         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

shriek  or  scream,  which  produces  a  fine  effect  when 
skilfully  employed,  but  is  most  pernicious  in  excess. 

Delsarte  was  too  conscientious  an  artist  not  to 
sacrifice  his  voice,  at  certain  moments,  to  his  pa- 
thetic effects ;  but  he  was  very  careful  to  warn  his 
scholars  against  the  abuse  of  this  method ;  he  di- 
rected them  to  use  it  but  very  rarely,  and  with  the 
greatest  precaution. 

I  should  also  say,  in  his  favor,  that  light  voices 
were  very  differently  trained  from  heavy  ones. 
Madame  Carvalho,  who  began  her  studies  in  his 
school,  did  not  alter  the  flexible  but  feeble  organ  she 
brought  there.  Mile.  Chaudesaigues  and  Mile.  Jacob, 
under  Delsarte's  tuition,  attained  to  marvels  of  flex- 
ibility, without  losing  any  of  their  natural  gifts. 

Appoggiatura. 

Delsarte  brought  about  a  revolution  in  French 
music  in  everything  relating  to  appoggiatura,  or 
rather,  he  restored  its  primitive  meaning.  The  way 
in  which  he  interpreted  it  has  created  a  school. 

He  taught  that  the  root  of  the  word — appoggiatura 
— being  appuyer  (to  sustain),  the  chief  importance 
should  be  given  in  the  phrase,  to  appoggiatura,  by 
extent  and  expression ;  the  more  so  that  this  note 
is  generally  placed  on  a  dissonance ;  and,  according 
to  this  master's  system,  it  is  on  the  dissonance — 
and  not  at  random  and  very  frequently,  as  is  the 
habit  of  many  singers: — that  the  powerful  effect  of 
the  vibration  of  sound  should  be  produced. 


THE  METHOD.  I9I 

Contrary  to  this  opinion,  the  appoggiatura  was  for 
a  long  time  used  in  France  as  a  short  and  rapid 
passing  note ;  it  thus  gave  the  music  a  vivacious  char- 
acter, wholly  discordant  with  the  style  of  serious  com- 
positions; the  music  of  Gluck  was  particularly 
unsuited  to  it. 

Roulade  and  Martellato. 

In  every  school  of  singing  the  roulade  is  efifecteti 
by  means  of  the  staccato  and  legato.  Delsarte  had 
a  marked  prejudice  in  favor  of  the  martellato,  which 
partakes  of  both.  He  compared  it,  in  his  pictur- 
esque  way  of  expressing  his  ideas,  to  pearls  united 
by  an  invisible  thread. 

Pronunciation. 

The  master's  pronunciation  was  irreproachable; 
not  the  slightest  trace  of  a  provincial  accent ;  never 
the  least  error  of  intonation,  the  smallest  mistake  in 
regard  to  a  long  or  short  syllable.  What  is  perhaps 
rarer  than  may  be  thought,  he  possessed,  in  its  abso- 
lute purity,  the  prosody  of  his  native  language,  alike 
in  lyric  declamation  and  in  the  cantabile.  His  pene- 
trating tones  added  another  charm  to  the  many 
merits  which  he  had  acquired  by  study. 

Pronunciation,  therefore,  was  skilfully  and  care- 
fully taught  in  Delsarte's  school.  The  professor's 
first  care  was  to  correct  any  tendency  to  lisp,  which 
he  did  by  temporarily  substituting  the  syllables 
te,  de,  over  and  over  again,  for  the  faulty  R.     This 


1^^  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

substitution  brought  the  organ  back  to  the  requisite 
position  for  the  vibration  of  the  R. 

This  process  is  now  in  common  use ;  but  I  can- 
not say  whether  it  was  employed  before  Delsarte's 
day.     He  obtained  very  happy  results  from  it. 

E  mute  before  a  Consonant. 

Delsarte  did  not  allow  that  absolute  suppression 
of  the  E  mute  before  a  consonant,  which  seems  to 
prevail  at  present,  and  which  produces  so  bad  an 
effect  in  delivery.  As  the  evil,  at  the  time  of  which 
I  speak,  was  yet  comparatively  unknown,  he  did  not 
make  it  a  case  of  conscience ;  but  if  he  never  lent 
himself  to  this  ellipsis,  he,  "  the  lyric  Talma,"  "  the 
exquisite  singer,"  as  he  has  frequently  been  called, 
should  we  not  regard  his  abstinence  as  a  condemna- 
tion from  which  there  is  no  appeal?  I  do  not 
believe,  moreover,  that  either  Nourrit  or  Dupre 
authorized  by  their  example  a  habit  so  contrary  to 
the  rules  of  French  versification,  so  disagreeable 
to  the  well-trained  ear  and  so  opposed  to  good  taste. 
Such  young  singers  as  have  yielded  to  it,  have  only 
to  listen  to  themselves  for  one  moment  to  abandon 
it  forever. 

It  is  certain  that  E  mute  can  in  no  instance  be 
assimilated  to  the  accented  E ;  but  to  suppress  it 
entirely,  is  to  break  the  symmetry  of  the  verse,  to 
put  the  measure  out  of  time.  It  is  unmistakable 
that  the  weakness  of  the  vowel,  or  mute  syllable, 
concerns  the  sound,   not  the  duration.     Let  it  die 


THE   METHOD.  193 

away  gently ;  but  for  Heaven's  sake,  do  not  murder 
it !  Voltaire  wrote :  **  You  reproach  us  with  our  E 
mute,  as  a  sad,  dull  sound  that  dies  on  our  lips,  but 
in  this  very  E  mute  lies  the  great  harmony  of  our 
prose  and  verse."  Littre  recognizes  two  forms  of 
the  E  mute :  the  E  mute,  faintly  articulated  a?  in 
"  time/'  and  the  E  mute  sounded  as  in  mCy  ce^  le\ 
but  he  does  not  allude  to  an  E  which  is  entirely 
null. 

Once  more,  then,  that  there  may  be  no  misunder- 
standing, let  me  say  that  the  word  mute  added  to  the 
E,  has  but  a  relative  sense,  in  view  of  the  two  vowels 
of  the  same  name  and  marked  with  an  acute  or  a 
grave  accent. 

One  fact  throws  light  on  the  question :  did  any 
author  ever  make  a  character  above  the  rank  of  a 
peasant  or  a  lackey,  say : 

"y'a/w^'  ben  Lisett^ 
J^crois  qu'eW  ni'en  veut?^'* 

Take  an  example  from  Voltaire  (tragedy  of  the 
Death  of  Caesar)  :  **  Voila  vos  siiccesseurs^  Horace y 
D^cius."  Evidently,  if  the  E  mute  had  not  been 
counted,  the  second  hemistich  of  the  Alexandrine 
verse  would  have  had  but  five  syllables  instead  of 
six. 

Would  any  one  like  to  know  how  the  heresiarchs 
of  the  E  mute  would  manage? 

In  this  instance  they  would  repeat  the  A  of  the 
penultimate,  aspirating  it  and  pronouncing  thus: 
"  Voila  vos  successeurSy  Hora  .  .  .  as\  Deciusy 


194         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

In  this  way  they  would  have  the  requisite  number 
of  syllables ;  but  they  would  be  wholly  at  odds  with 
the  dictionary  of  the  good  actors  of  the  Theatre 
Fran^ais. 

This  falsification  is  especially  common  in  singing, 
though  it  is  no  less  revolting  in  that  field  of  art. 
How  often  at  concerts — the  force  of  tradition  saves 
us  at  the  theatre — do  we  hear  even  artists  of  great 
reputation  pronounce: 

"  Quel  jour  prosp2  .  .  ^/  plus  de  mystc  .  .  ^r,"  in- 
stead of:  "  Quel  jour  prosper e  plus  de  mystere!'  And, 
in  one  of  the  choruses  of  the  opera  ''La  Reine  de 
Chypre  "  .• 

^^  Jamais,  jamais  en  Fran  .  .  .  an(^ 
Jamais  V Anglais  ne  r'egnera  /  " 

Instead  of: 

*  *  Jamais,  jamais  en  Fi  ance. 
Jamais  P Anglais  ne  regneraf" 

This  anomaly  is  most  offensive  in  the  final  syl- 
lable of  a  verse,  because  there  the  measure  is  more 
impaired  than  ever,  and  in  this  way  that  alternation 
of  male  and  female  rhymes  is  suppressed,  which 
produces  so  flowing  and  graceful  a  cadence  in 
French  verse 

E  mute  before  a  Vowel. 

The  encounter  of  E  mute  in  a  final  syllable,  with 
the  initial  vowel  of  the  word  which  follows  it,  makes 
the  defect  more  apparent  and  accordingly  easier  to 
fight  against. 

Delsarte's  process  was  as  follows :   When  a  silent 


THE   METHOD.  195 

syllable  is  immediately  followed  by  a  word  begin- 
ning with  another  vowel,  the  E  mute  (by  a  pro- 
longation of  the  sound  of  the  penultimate)  is 
suppressed  with  the  next  letter.  Thus  in  the  aria 
of  Joseph  (opera  by  Mehul)  : " 

''Loin  de  vous  a  langui  majeune  .  .  sexilee;  "  and 
in  Count  Ory  :  '*  Saluty  6  v^nei^a  .  .  .  blennite" 

In  these  cases,  by  an  unfortunate  spirit  of  com- 
pensation, the  abettors  of  the  innovation,  suppress- 
ing the  grammatical  elision,  sing  thus : 

''Loin  de  voiiz  a  langui  majeune  ,  .  .  ess'exilee-* 
''Saluty  b  venera  .  .  .  abVenni ,  .  .  iti^'' 

Littre's  Dictionary  gives  us  the  same  pronuncia- 
tion as  Delsarte ;  and  his  written  demonstration  is  even 
more  positive.  We  find  favorables  auspices,  arbres 
abattus,  written  in  this  way :  ''fa—vo-ra—ble-s-auspi- 
ceSy  arbre—z—abattusr 

It  is,  however,  very  difficult  to  express  these  dif- 
ferences exactly,  in  type:  what  Littre  expresses 
radically  by  typographic  characters,  is  blended  with 
most  natural  delicacy  by  the  voice  of  a  singer. 

Thus,  according  to  Delsarte,  the  E  mute  of  a  final 
syllable  should  be  suppressed  before  a  vowel,  on 
condition  of  a  prolongation  of  the  sound,  in  har- 
mony with  the  penultimate  syllable. 

According  to  Delsarte  again,  according  to  Vol- 
taire, according  to  Littre,  the  E  mute  is  weakened, 
more  or  less,  but  never  completely  suppressed,  be- 
fore a  consonant. 

Finally  Legouve,  whose  voice  is  preponderant  in 


196  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

these  matters,  whose  books  are  in  the  hands  of  the 
whole  world,  has  never  entered  into  this  lettricidal 
conspiracy. 

I  hope  to  be  pardoned  this  long  digression,  think- 
ing it  my  duty  to  protest  against  such  a  ludicrous 
method  of  treating  French  prosody ;  I  do  so  both 
in  the  name  of  aesthetics  and  as  a  part  of  my  task  as 
biographer  of  Delsarte.* 

*  Notes  taken  by  his  pupils,  during  the  latter  years  of  his  lessons  prove  that  the 
master  touched  upon  this  question.  I  do  not  copy  them  because,  being  somewhat 
confused,  they  might  give  rise  to  misunderstandings;  neither  do  they  in  any  way  con- 
tradict anything  that  I  have  said  above  ;  they  confirm,  on  the  contrary,  what  remains 
in  my  memory  of  the  interpretation  of  Delsarte,  who  never  belied  himself. 


CHAPTER  III. 
WAS  DELSARTE  A  PHILOSOPHER  ? 

If  we  consider  philosophy  in  the  Hght  of  all  the 
questions  upon  which  it  touches,  the  subjects  which 
it  embraces,  we  must  answer  "  No ;  "  but  if  we  con- 
centrate the  word  within  the  limits  of  aesthetics,  we 
may  reply  in  the  affirmative.  Did  not  Delsarte  point 
out  the  origin  of  art,  its  object  and  its  aim? 

Not  that  this  master  never  exceeded  the  limits  of 
his  science  and  his  method.  He  had  sketched  out 
a  "  Treatise  on  Reason,"  and  had  begun  to  classify 
the  faculties  of  being,  entering  into  the  subject  more 
profoundly  than  the  categories  of  Kant ;  but  all  this 
only  exists  in  mere  outline,  in  a  technology  whose 
terms  have  not  been  weighed  and  connected  to- 
gether by  a  solid  chain  of  reasoning :  logic  has 
not  uttered  its  final  word  therein. 

A  separate  volume  would  be  required  to  give  an 
idea  of  these  giga7itic  sketcheSy  which  must  remain 
in  their  rudimentary  state. 

If  Delsarte  had  finished  his  work,  it  would  seem  that 
he  must  have  leaned  toward  the  scholastic  method, 
now  so  much  out  of  favor ;  but  certainly  he  would  put 
his  own  personality  into  this,  as  into  everything  that 
he  undertook  to  investigate  ;  for  he  was  held  back  on 
the  steeps  of  mysticism  by  the  science  which  he  had 


198  ARNAUD  ON  DELSARTE. 

created,  and  which  could  only  afford  a  shelter  to  the 
supernatural  as  an  extension  of  those  psychical 
faculties  which  have  been  called  intuition,  imagina- 
tion, etc. 

Then  the  influence  of  Raymond  Brucker,  who 
died  shortly  after  Delsarte,  being  lessened,  and  con- 
scientious and  patient  study  having  fed  the  flame  in 
that  vast  brain,  we  might  have  obtained  affirmations 
of  a  new  order.  And  Delsarte  might  have  met  with 
thinkers  like  Leibnitz,  Descartes  and  Jean  Reynaud, 
on  that  height  where  religion  is  purged  of  super- 
stition and  fanaticism,  philosophy  set  free  from 
atheism  and  materialism ! 

If  Delsarte  had  a  fault,  it  was  that  he  regarded 
all  modern  philosophy  as  sensuous  naturalism ;  and 
if  reason  sometimes  seemed  to  him  suspicious, 
it  was  because  he  often  confounded  it  with  sophistry, 
which  reasons  indeed,  but  is  far  from  being  reason. 

Let  us  regret  that  Delsarte  never  finished  his  com- 
plete philosophy ;  but  let  us  be  grateful  to  him  for 
having  raised  his  art  and  all  arts  to  the  level  of 
philosophy,  by  giving  them  truth  as  a  basis  and 
morality  as  a  final  aim;  which  fairly  justifies,  it 
seems  to  me,  the  title  of  aiiist-philosopher,  which  I 
have  sometimes  applied  to  him. 

I  should  not  neglect,  in  this  connection,  to  set 
down  the  explanation,  given  by  Delsarte,  of  what 
he  meant  by  the  word  trinity^  as  used  in  his  scien- 
tific system.     The  reader  cannot  fail  to  see  the  ele- 


WAS  BELSARTE  A  PHILOSOPHER  ?  1 99 

ments  of  a  system  of  philosophy  in  this  succinct 
statement,  this  outline  to  be  filled  up : 

"  The  principle  of  the  system  lies  in  the  statement 
that  there  is  in  the  world  a  universal  formula  which 
may  be  applied  to  all  sciences,  to  all  things  possible : 
— this  formula  is  the  trinity, 

"What  is  requisite  for  the  formation  of  a  trinity? 

"  Three  expressions  are  requisite,  each  presuppos- 
ing and  implying  the  other  two.  Each  of  three 
terms  must  imply  the  other  two.  There  must  also 
be  an  absolute  co-necessity  between  them ;  thus,  the 
three  principles  of  our  being — life,  mind  and  soul — 
form  a  trinity. 

"Why? 

**  Because  life  and  mind  are  one  and  the  same  soul ; 
soul  and  mind  are  one  and  the  same  life ;  life  and 
soul  are  one  and  the  same  mind." 


CHAPTER  IV. 
~      COURSE  OF  APPLIED  .ESTHETICS. 

Meeting  of  the  Circle  of  Learned  Societies. 

Independently  of  its  method,  which  was  especially 
applicable  to  dramatic  and  lyric  arts,  Delsarte's  doc- 
trine, as  we  have  seen,  drew  from  the  primordial 
sources,  which  are  the  law  of  things,  the  principles 
of  all  poetry,  all  art  and  all  science.  The  intense 
light  which  he  brought  thence  was  too  dazzling  for 
young  scholars,  whose  minds  were  rarely  prepared 
by  previous  education.  It,  nevertheless,  overflowed 
into  the  daily  lessons,  and  gave  them  that  peculiar 
and  somewhat  singular  aspect,  which  acted  even 
upon  those  whose  intelligence  could  not  cope  with 
it.  Such  is  the  mysterious  magic  of  things  which 
penetrate  before  they  convince. 

But  these  lofty  problems  demanded  an  audience 
in  harmony  with  their  elevation.  Delsarte  soon 
attracted  such.  Under  the  title  "■  Course  of  Applied 
Esthetics,"  he  collected  in  various  places,  notably 
at  the  ''  Circle  of  Learned  Societies,"  profane  and 
sacred  orators,  and  learned  men  of  all  sorts.  There 
he  could  develop  points  of  view  as  new  as  they 
seemed  to  be  strikingly  true.  It  was  on  leaving  one 
of  these  meetings,  that  a  distinguished  painter  thus 
expressed  his  enthusiasm :   *'  I  have  learned  so  much 


COURSE   OF  APPLIED   ESTHETICS.  201 

to-day,  and  it  is  all  so  simple  and  so  true,  that  I  am 
amazed  that  I  never  thought  of  it  before." 

The  Course  of  AppHed  ^Esthetics  was  addressed 
to  painters,  sculptors,  orators,  as  well  as  to  musicians, 
both  performers  and  composers;  and  was  finally 
extended  to  literary  men.  This  audience  of  schol- 
ars was  no  less  astonished  and  enchanted  than 
others  had  been. 

Theory  of  the  Degrees. 

The  theory  of  degrees  was  largely  developed  at 
these  meetings,  and  I  have  purposely  delayed  it  till 
this  chapter.  To  understand  this  theory — one  of 
the  most  striking  points  in  Delsarte's  method,  and 
original  with  him, — one  should  have  some  idea  of 
the  grammar  which  he  composed  for  the  use  of  his 
pupils. 

I  will  not  say  that  this  treatise  was  complete  in 
the  sense  usually  attached  to  the  word  grammar. 
There  is  no  mention  of  orthography  or  of  lexicol- 
ogy ;  but  all  that  is  the  very  essence  of  language, 
that  from  which  no  language,  no  idiom  can  escape — 
the  constituent  parts  of  speech — are  examined  and 
investigated  from  a  philosophic  and  psychologic 
point  of  view.  Just  as  the  author  examined  the 
constituent  modalities  of  our  being  in  the  light  of 
aesthetics,  he  seized  the  affinities  between  the  laws 
of  speech,  as  far  as  regards  the  voice — logos — and 
the  moral  manifestations  of  art. 

This  production  of  Delsarte  has  undergone  the 


202  ARNAUD  ON  DELSARTE. 

fate  of  almost  all  his  works — it  has  not  been  printed. 
Indeed,  I  greatly  fear  that  all  his  notes  on  the  sub- 
ject can  never  be  collected ;  nevertheless  that  which 
has  been  gathered  together  presents  a  certain  devel- 
opment. I  will  not  enter  into  the  purely  metaphysi- 
cal part,  limiting  myself,  as  I  have  done  from  the 
beginning  of  this  study,  to  making  known  the  con- 
ceptions of  Delsarte  only  in  so  far  as  they  refer  to 
the  special  field  of  aesthetics. 

In  this  category,  we  find  the  following  definitions 
which  serve  to  classify  the  quantitative  values  or 
degrees :  that  is  the  extent  assigned  to  each  articu- 
lation or  vocal  emission  to  enable  it  to  express  the 
thoughts,  sentiments  and  sensations  of  our  being  in 
their  truth  and  proportionate  intensity : 

1.  Substantive  is  the  name  given  to  a  group  of 
appearances,  to  a  totality  of  attributes. 

2.  Adjective    expresses    ideas,    simple,    abstract,, 
general  and  modicative ;   it  is  an  abstraction  in  the 
substantive. 

3.  Verb  is  tlie  word  that  affirms  the  existence  and 
the  co-existence  between  the  being  existing  and  its 
manner  of  existing :  that  is  to  say  it  connects  the 
subject  with  the  attribute.  The  verb  is  not  a  sign 
of  action,  but  of  affirmatioa  and  existence. 

4.  The  participle  alone  is  a  sign  of  action. 

5.  6,  7.  The  article y  pronoun  and  preposition  fit 
into  the  common  definitions. 

8.  The  adverb  is  the  adjective  of  the  adjective 
and  of  the  participle   (in  so  far  as  it  is  an  attribute 


COURSE  OF  APPLIED   ESTHETICS.  203 

of  the  verb)  ;  it  modifies  them  both,  and  is  not 
modifiable  by  either  of  them ;  it  is  a  sign  of  pro- 
portion, an  intellectual  compass. 

9.  The  cofijiinction  has  the  same  function  as  the 
preposition:  it  unites  one  object  to  another  object; 
but  it  differs  from  it,  inasmuch  as  the  preposition 
has  but  a  single  word  for  its  antecedent,  and  a  single 
word  for  its  objective  case,  while  the  conjunction 
has  an  entire  phrase  for  antecedent,  and  the  same 
for  complement.  It  characterizes  the  point  of  view 
under  the  sway  of  which  the  relations  should  be  re- 
garded: restrictive,  as  but ;  hypothetical  or  condi- 
tional, as  if?  conclusive,  as  then,  etc.,  etc.  The 
conjunction  presents  a  general  view  to  our  thought, 
it  is  the  reunion  of  scattered  facts ;  it  is  essentially 
elliptical. 

10.  The  interjection  responds  to  those  circum- 
stances where  the  soul,  moved  and  shaken  by  a 
crowd  of  emotions  at  once,  feels  that  by  uttering  a 
phrase  it  would  be  far  from  expressing  what  it 
experiences.  It  then  exhales  a  sound,  and  confides 
to  gesture  the  transmission  of  its  emotion. 

The  interjection  is  essentially  elliptical,  because, 
expressing  nothing  in  itself,  it  expresses  at  the  time 
all  that  the  gesture  desires  it  to  express,  for  ellipsis 
is  a  hidden  sense,  the  revelation  of  which  belongs 
exclusively  to  gesture. 

It  must  first  be  noted  that  these  degrees  are  num- 
bered from  one  to  nine,  and  that,  of  all  the  grammati- 


204  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

cal  values  defined,  the  conjunction,  interjection  and 
adverb  are  classed  highest. 

Delsarte  made  the  following  experiment  one  day 
in  the  "  Circle  of  Learned  Societies,"  during  a  lec- 
ture : 

"Which  word,"  he  asked  his  audience,  "requires 
most  emphasis  in  the  lines — 

*'  The  wave  draws  near,  it  breaks,  and  vomits  up  before  our  eyes, 
Amid  the  surging  foam,  a  monster  huge  of  size?  " 

The  absence  of  any  rule  applicable  to  the  subject 
caused  the  most  complete  anarchy  among  the  listen- 
ers. One  thought  that  the  word  to  be  emphasized 
must  be  monster — as  indicating  an  object  of  terror ; 
another  gave  the  preference  to  the  adjective  huge. 
Still  another  thought  that  vomits  demanded  the 
most  expressive  accent,  from  the  ugliness  of  that 
which  it  expresses. 

Delsarte  repeated  the  lines : 

"  The  wave  draws  near,  it  breaks,  and.  .  vomits  up  before  our  eyes." 

It  was  on  the  word  and  that  he  concentrated  all  the 
force  of  his  accent;  but  giving  it,  by  gesture,  voice 
and  facial  expression,  all  the  significance  lacking 
to  that  particle,  colorless  in  itself,  as  he  pronounced 
the  word,  the  fixity  of  his  gaze,  his  trembling  hands, 
his  body  shrinking  back  into  itself,  while  his  feet 
seemed  riveted  to  the  earth,  all  presaged  some- 
thing terrible  and  frightful.  He  saw  what  he  was 
about  to  relate,  he  made  you  see  it;  the  conjunc- 
tion, aided  by  the  actor's  pantomime,  opened  infinite 
perspectives  to  the    imagination ;    his    words    had 


COURSE   OF   APPLIED    ESTHETICS.  20$ 

only  to  specify  the  fact,  and  to  justify  the  emotion 
which  had  accumulated  in  the  interval. 

But  this  particle,  which  here  allows  of  eight  de? 
grees,  is  much  diminished  when  it  fills  the  office  of 
a  simple  copulative.  The  extent  of  the  word  or 
the  syllable  is  always  subordinate  to  the  sense  of 
the  phrase ;  in  the  latter  case  it  does  not  require 
more  than  the  figure  2. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE   RECITATION   OF   FABLES. 

Some  years  before  his  death  Delsarte  substituted 
for  his  concerts,  lectures  in  which  he  explained  his 
scientific  doctrines  and  his  philosophy  of  art.  He 
also  supplied  the  place  of  song  by  the  recitation  of 
certain  fables  selected  from  La  Fontaine.  He  was 
not  less  perfect  in  this  style  than  in  the  interpreta- 
tion of  the  great  roles  of  tragedy  and  grand  lyric 
poems ;  but  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that  under 
this  new  guise,  his  talent  could  not  display  itself  in 
all  its  amplitude;  save  for  the  facial  expression 
which  gave  the  lessons  of  the  apologue  a  variety  of 
outline  of  which  La  Fontaine  himself  perhaps  never 
dreamed  ....  and  in  spite  of  the  fine  and  scholarly 
accent  which  he  could  give  to  all  those  clever  beasts, 
he  was,  on  many  points,  deprived  of  his  power  and 
his  prestige:  how  endow  a  lion  with  the  proud 
poses  of  Achilles  ;  and  lend  the  foolish  grasshopper 
the  Satanic  charm  of  Armida? 

Instead  of  noble  or  terrific  attitudes,  his  gesture 
was  confined  to  a  few  movements  of  forearm  or 
hand ;  of  his  fingers,  when  the  intentions  were  more 
subtle,  more  refined  ....  Still  it  was  always  most 
pleasant  to  hear  him.  It  was  Delsarte  restrained, 
but  not  diminished.  If  you  did  not  recover  in  his 
speaking  voice  that  sort  of  enchantment  with  which 


THE   RECITATION   OF   FABLES.  20/ 

his  slightly-veiled  tone  pierced  the  soul,  his  accent 
remained  so  pure,  so  intelligent,  that  you  were  none 
the  less  ravished. 

When,  in  the  fable  of  The  Two  Pigeons,  he  said : 

"Absence  is  the  greatest  of  ills,  .  . 
Not  so  for  you,  cruel  one !  " 

He  discovered  shades,  hitherto  unknown,  with 
which  to  paint  reproach  mingled  with  grief.  And 
when  he  said : 

"  The  ant .  ,  ,  is  not  a  lender!  .  .  ." 
A  more  affirmative  and  striking  sense  of  the   char- 
acter attributed  to  our  thrifty  friend,  was  detached 
from  this  delay,  filled  up  by  a  negative  movement  of 
the  narrator's  head. 

If  Delsarte  had  limited  himself  in  his  lectures,  to 
teaching  men  by  means  of  the  menagerie,  which  was 
a  sly  burlesque  of  the  courtiers  of  Louis  XIV., 
perhaps  he  might  have  made  idolatrous  partisans 
there  as  elsewhere ;  but  it  seems  as  if  in  the  expo- 
sition of  his  theory,  he  posed  rather  as  a  censor 
than  a  teacher ;  he  delighted  in  baffling  the  mind 
by  paradoxes.  By  annexes  superimposed  and  ill- 
blended  with  his  system,  he  sometimes  compronaised 
those  scientific  truths  whose  splendor  bursts  forth 
when  they  are  freed  from  heterogeneous  accessories. 
We  cannot  otherwise  explain  the  resistance  of  cer- 
tain minds,  distinguished  otherwise,  to  the  recogni- 
tion in  him  of  the  artist  who  excited  the  enthusiasm 
of  all  the  most  competent  critics  and  brilliant 
amateurs. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  LAW  OF  ESTHETICS. 

However  striking  and  superior  the  system  of 
Fran9ois  Delsarte  has  been  shown  to  be,  however 
admirable  and  attractive  the  manifestation  of  art  in 
his  person,  —  herein  He  not  his  first  rights  to  the 
grateful  sympathy  which  we  owe  to  his  memory. 
His  works  and  discoveries  in  aesthetics  are  a  benefit 
of  general  interest,  while  they  disclose  to  us  the 
fruitful  resources  of  his  genius. 

In  the  first  place,  what  is  a  law?  We  have  here  to 
deal,  not  with  the  legislation  decreed  by  man  for  the 
regulation  of  social  and  political  relations,  but  with 
those  laws  deduced  from  a  natural  order,  as  the 
principle  of  life  itself,  which  govern  the  relations  of 
beings  and  of  things.  In  religion  these  laws  are  its 
dogmas  and  mysteries ;  philosophically  speaking, 
the  laws  of  things  are  the  essentials  of  their  nature, 
their  specific  relations. 

Voltaire  has  written :  "  Law  is  the  instinct  by 
which  we  feel  justice."  In  Littre's  Dictionary  we 
find  stated  that  "  laws  are  conditions  imposed  by 
circumstances."  Another  has  said :  "  The  constant, 
uneludable  succession  in  which  phenomena  occur, 
takes  the  name  of  law." 

I  would  here  state,  that  in  no  one  of  the  last  three 
citations  does  the  word  "  law "  seem  to  me  to  be 


THE   LAW   OF  ^ESTHETICS.  209 

precisely  defined.  From  the  different  explanations 
of  the  natural  laws  which  I  have  been  able  to  com- 
pare, I  conclude  that  laws  are  forces  containing  in 
themselves  the  reasons,  to  us  unknown,  of  a  power 
and  permanence  which  are  unchangeable.  Plato 
named  them  ideas.  We  must  now  conclude  that  the 
nature  of  a  law,  in  the  present  acceptation  of  the 
term,  can  be  but  imperfectly  interpreted  by  exact 
formulae.  Laws  are  still  much  involved  in  the  secrets 
of  creation.  Here  must  we  seek  their  origin  or 
origins. 

But  courage  still !  Although  these  formulae  but 
imperfectly  define  law,  the  facts  suffice  to  establish 
them.  They  (facts)  show  the  certain  action  and,  as 
stated  heretofore,  the  uneludable  nature  of  these 
formulae. 

But  the  discovery  of  Delsarte  is  the  application 
to  aesthetics  of  a  natural  law,  proven  and  established 
by  science.  This  law  is  that  which  governs  the 
system  of  man's  organism.  Its  present  application 
is  justified  by  a  series  of  scientifically  coordinated 
facts.  Delsarte  rests  upon  the  principle  that  man  is 
the  object  of  art.  Thus  the  artist  should  aim  to 
manifest  human  7iature  in  its  three  modalities,  in  its 
three  phases  which  the  master  named  life,  soul  and 
mind.  In  other  words,  the  beings  physical^  moral 
and  mental. 

These  three  expressions   figure   in   the  work  of 
Pierre    Leroux    (^De  rHuinanite)   in  the    following 
equivalent   terms:   sensation y  sentiment j   knowledge. 
14 


2IO  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

But  Leroux  applied  to  ethics  this  law  of  human 
organism,  whereas  Delsarte  derived  from  it  the  law 
of  aesthetics.  When  two  minds  of  this  stamp  are 
thus  led,  each  in  his  own  way,  to  the  same  source  of 
analogous  principles  differently  applied,  is  it  not  a 
proof  that  they  have  stated  truth  ?  And  in  this  case 
it  is  more  than  presumable  that  the  two  men  of 
whom  I  speak  had  never  worked  together.  Delsarte 
was  a  philosopher  in  spite  of  himself.  With  Pierre 
Leroux  art  was  only  an  element  contingent  upon  a 
system  which  he  elaborated. 

Was  Delsarte  led  to  his  classification  of  man's 
nature  by  the  doctrine  of  the  three  persons  in  the 
Trinity  combined  in  unity?  Was  he,  by  his  obser- 
vations upon  the  human  triplicityy  led  on  to  consider 
their  infinite  development  in  the  divine  person- 
alities?' I  know  not,  nor  is  it  of  importance  in  con- 
sidering the  system. 

Leroux  affirmed  a  relation  between  the  unity  of 
man  and  the  universality  of  his  pantheism;  both 
relying  at  the  outset  upon  an  idea  at  once  religious 
and  philosophical.  But  the  research  of  Leroux  was 
philosophically  inclined,  while  that  of  Delsarte  was 
of  a  character  more  especially  religious. 

Is  it  necessary  to  urge  that  you  accept  this  obvi- 
ously primitive  classification  of  the  human  faculties? 
Who,  that  shall  have  considered  a  moment  to  con- 
vince himself,  can  doubt  thi^  truth, — that  our 
sensations,  our  sentiments,  our  understanding,  are  the 
principal  elenients  of  our  life,  and  that  all  that  we  are 


THE   LAW   OF   ESTHETICS.  211 

able  to  know  of  ourselves  is  made  known  to  us  by 
them  directly,  or  by  the  result  of  their  combina- 
tions? This  consideration  will  soon  lead  us  to  the 
rational  development  of  the  theory  of  Delsarte.  For 
the  present,  it  suffices  to  receive  these  principles  as 
they  have  been  presented  to  us,  and  to  admit  that 
art  could  not  go  far  astray  while  following  a  clue 
leading  from  a  law  invincible,  and  guiding  to  a  sci- 
ence as  positive  as  that  of  the  astronomer,  derived 
from  the  law  of  attraction,  or  that  of  the  chemist, 
depending  upon  the  law  of  affinities.  Here  need  be 
no  confusion.  The  science  is  positive.  The  mys- 
tery of  the  natural  law  implies  a  hypothesis, — even 
were  the  proposition  negative. 

Delsarte  insisted  upon  the  influence  of  a  religious 
sentiment  in  art,  as  a  part  of  the  constitutive  animat- 
ing faculties  of  the  human  being.  In  the  light  of 
this  proposition  his  enemies  maintain  that  he  teaches 
this  heresy :  that  success  in  aesthetics  depends  upon 
a  definite  faith — even  upon  the  observance  of  the 
Catholic  religion  !  This  distinction  between  relig- 
ion and  creed,  between  sentiment  and  assertion,  I 
have  followed  carefully  since  the  beginning  of  my 
study.  Delsarte  was  able  to  so  address  his  pupils 
at  the  beginning  of  a  lecture,  as  to  arouse  the  apa- 
thetic, and  electrify  the  passionate  ;  but  his  teaching 
was  far  from  dogmatic.  I  do  not  say  that  at  times, 
in  his  aspirationsf  and  dreams,  which  he  regarded 
perhaps  as  intuitions,  this  religious  philosophy  did 
not  make  some  incursions  into  the  region  of  mys- 


212  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

ticism.  I  have  seen  at  his  home  charts  named  from 
the  circumincession,*  and  classifying  celestial  spirits ; 
but  these  trans-mundane  personifications  found  no 
place  in  his  practical  lectures.  They  are  not  found 
in  the  great  synthetical  chart  which  I  possess,  and 
which  recapitulates  the  system  as  the  master  arranged 
it  in  the  strength  of  his  youth  and  genius,  free  from 
all  mystical  element. 

When,  in  1859,  I  submitted  to  Delsarte  my  trea- 
tise containing  a  succinct  statement  of  his  method, 
he  said  to  me :  '*  You  have  not  followed  me  so  far 
as  the  angels." 

I  replied  :  "  I  have  related  and  recognized  as  truth 
all  that  I  have  heard  you  teach  upon  the  laws  of  art 
as  deduced  from  the  relations  of  the  human  faculties, 
because  I  have  observed  and  verified  it  among  peo- 
ple and  upon  myself.  But  I  speak  not  of  things 
which  you  have  never  shown  me,  and  whose  exist- 
ence you  have  never  demonstrated.  The  angels  are 
of  this  number." 

Yet  he  received  with  no  less  approval  my  profane 
work.  And  it  is  the  judgment  which  he  placed 
upon  that  essay  which  authorizes  my  resuming  the 
subject,  augmented  by  further  developments  and 
evidence. 

I  should  not  state  with  so  great  confidence  this 
great  truth  —  the  application  of  a  natural  law  to  a 
succession  of  discoveries  constituting  a  science,  an 

*  The  existence  of  the  persons  of  the  Trinity,  the  one  in  the  other.    These  charts 
and  diagrams  are  given  in  Part  Fifth. 


THE   lyAW   OF  ESTHETICS.  213 

incontestable  innovation  —  were  I  not  able  to  refer 
to  competent  opinions  supporting  my  statement. 
A  few  of  these  opinions  I  would  here  quote  from 
some  of  the  journals  I  have  examined,  many  of 
which  thoroughly  appreciated  Delsarte  throughout 
the  long  period  of  his  teaching. 

It  was  said  by  Adolphe  Gueroult  {Presse,  May  15, 
1858):  "To  discover  and  produce  wonderful  ef- 
fects, is  preeminently  the  characteristic  of  great 
artists,  but  never,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  has  it  oc- 
curred to  any  one,  before  Delsarte,  to  attach  these 
strokes  of  genius  to  positive  laws."  And  further : 
"  The  eloquent  secrets  of  pantomime,  the  impercep- 
tible movements  which,  in  great  actors,  so  forcibly 
impress  us,  coming  under  the  observation  of  this 
discoverer,  were  by  him  analyzed  and  synthetized 
in  accordance  with  laws  whose  clearness  and  sim- 
plicity render  them  doubly  admirable." 

I  give  also  some  statements  from  the  Journal  des 
Debats  (May  10,  1859).  Though  in  the  following 
the  word  "  law "  does  not  appear,  it  bears  interest- 
ingly upon  the  relations  of  the  ideas  and  expressions 
under  consideration.     The  quotation  is :  — 

"  The  audience  was  charmed  and  instructed.  It 
applauded  the  new  definitions.  It  divined  the  es- 
sence of  each  art,  and  comprehended  that  the  vari- 
ous manifestations  of  art  are  classified  according  to 
the  classifications 'of  the  human  faculties.  It  knows 
why  each  passion  produces  each  accent :  *  because 
the  accent  is  the  modulation  of  the  soul,'  and  why  a 


214  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

given  emotion  produces  a  given  expression  of  the 
face,  gesture  and  attitude  of  the  body." 

When  we  allow  that  **  the  classifications  of  the 
manifestations  of  art  are  made  according  to  those 
of  the  human  faculties,"  do  we  not  also  allow  that 
they  are  derived  from  one  law? 

Thus  the  fiat  lux  (''let  there  be  light")  is  pro- 
nounced. Art  departs  from'  chaos,  escapes  from 
anarchy ;  it  acts  no  longer  only  for  the  so-called 
artist,  but  also  for  the  actor  and  singer,  whom  we 
are  now  to  consider.  Art  has  to  do  with  the  pose 
of  the  body,  a  graceful  carriage,  distinct  pronunci- 
ation and  an  unconscious  command  of  dramatic  ef- 
fects. For  a  tenor  to  phrase  agreeably,  vocalize 
skilfully,  giving  us  resonant  chest-tones,  no  longer 
suffices  to  gain  for  him  the  title  of  great  singer. 

The  followers  of  art  should  be  able,  before  and 
above  all,  to  portray  humanity  in  its  essential  truth, 
and  according  to  the  original  tendency  of  each  type. 
Mannerism  and  affectation  should  forever  be  pro- 
scribed —  unless  they  are  imitated  as  an  exercise  — 
but  all  the  excellence  that  chance  has  produced  up 
to  the  present  time  should  be  incorporated  in  the 
new  science. 

Moreover,  by  referring  to  a  law  the  occasional 
successes  which  come  to  one,  it  becomes  possible 
to  reproduce  them  at  will. 

The  essential  point  is  to  get  back  to  the  truth,  to 

express  the  passions  and  emotions  as  nature  mani- 

ests  them,  and  not  to  repeat  mechanically  a  series 


THE   LAW   OF  ESTHETICS  21 5 

of  conventional  proceedings  which  are  violations  of 
the  natural  law.  **  Effects  should  be  the  echoes  of 
a  situation  clearly  comprehended  and  completely 
felt,"  —  such  was  the  import  of  this  teaching. 

One  of  the  great  benefits  arising  from  the  discov- 
eries of  Delsarte  is  the  reconciliation  of  freedom 
and  restraint.  If  it  bind  the  artist  by  determinate 
rules,  it  is  in  order  to  free  him  from  routine,  to 
recall  him  to  the  general  law  of  being  and  of  his  own 
individuality.  It  is  in  order  that  he  may  study 
himself,  in  the  place  of  submitting  to  arbitrary  pre- 
scriptions. In  such  study  every  marked  personality 
will  find  itself  in  its  native  element. 

As  for  those  who  have  no  vocation,  and  in  whom 
the  *'  ego "  distinguishes  itself  so  little  from  the 
multitude  that  it  remains  lost  in  it,  it  is  best  that 
they  should  withdraw,  since  they  are  not  called. 
They  have  in  view  only  vanity  or  speculation,  and 
must  always  be  intruders  in  the  sacred  temple  of  art. 

''My  glass  is  not  large,  but  I  drink  from  my 
glass,"  said  Alfred  de  Musset.  Very  well !  let  each 
one  drink  from  his  glass,  but  observe  !  it  is  not  nec- 
essary that  in  the  true  artist  all  should  be  individual 
and  peculiar.  It  is  necessary  only  that  there  should 
exist  a  degree  of  individuality,  something  novel,  a 
distinguishing  tone  and  an  artistic  physiognomy 
peculiarly  his  own.  Servile  imitations,  plagiarism, 
stupid  adaptations,  put  to  death  all  art  and  all 
poetry.  In  literature  particularly  is  such  decline 
most  easy. 


2l6  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

Hoping  that,  from  what  has  been  said,  you  have 
been  led  more  fully  to  appreciate  the  advantage  of 
seeing  all  of  the  branches  of  intellectual  culture  led 
out  of  the  ruts  of  routine,  away  from  plagiarism  and 
from  disorder  and  anarchy,  one  word  upon  the  most 
distasteful  and  effectual  blight  to  which  art  is  sub- 
ject—  the  loss  of  naturalness,  viz.,  affectation.  Can 
anything  be  more  irritating  than  an  affected  actor  or 
singer,  caterers  to  perverted  tastes? 

In  sculpture  what  is  more  displeasing  than  a  dis- 
torted figure,  which  aimed  at  grace  and  is  become 
a  caricature?  Affectation  is  in  the  arts  the  equiva- 
lant  of  sophistry  in  logic,  of  the  false  in  morals,  of 
hypocrisy  in  religion.  It  is  not  extravagant  to  as- 
sume that  affectation,  being  a  falsity,  an  active  He, 
is  a  torture  to  the  spirit  which  perceives  it,  and  a 
wrong  to  the  honest  souls  who  endure  it.  It  should 
be,  therefore,  for  twofold  cause,  banished  without 
pity  from  the  realm  of  aesthetics.  Why  should  the 
natural,  which  is  the  expression  of  truth,  have  so 
great  an  attraction  if  affectation  —  its  enemy  and 
incumbrance  —  aroused  not  our  impatience  or  dis- 
dain? 

How  is  it  that  in  children  of  all  classes  we  find 
grace,  ravishing  and  inimitable?  It  is  because  in 
them  the  accord  is  perfect  between  the  look,  the 
smile,  the  gesture  and  the  impression  within,  of 
which  they  are  the  interpreters  —  the  adequate 
signs,  as  Delsarte  would  say — the  perfidious  flexibility 
of  words  never  interposing  to  alter  the  harmony. 


THE   LAW   OF  ESTHETICS.  21/ 

True  grace  in  adults  is  not  that  which  is  studied, 
nor  that  which  is  artistically  copied  from  a  badly- 
chosen  type.  Grace  is  born  of  itself,  the  natural 
fruit  of  the  culture  of  the  mind,  of  elevated  thoughts 
and  noble  sentiments.  It  is  a  combination  of  ex- 
cellences which  come  unconsciously  to  some 
privileged  beings.  To  imitate  beautiful  effects  in 
nature,  to  surprise  their  expressions,  after  having 
observed  and  established  the  relation  of  cause  to 
effect,  —  this  is  the  end  to  which  the  discovery  of 
Delsarte  would  lead  us. 

As  it  is  difficult  for  each  to  find  ready  at  his  com- 
mand the  elements  for  such  research,  how  can  we 
overestimate  the  great  value  of  establishing  schools 
in  which  the  instruction  of  students  of  the  great  art 
shall  be  guided  in  accordance  with  the  established 
laws  of  aesthetics  ?  The  time  of  greatest  necessity 
is  the  immediate  present,  since  the  voice  of  the 
people  cries  loudly  through  the  press,  "Art  is  de- 
caying and  will  surely  die  !  " 

"  Barriers  are  also  supports,"  said  Madame  de 
Stael ;  and  what  more  sure  support  in  the  deca- 
dence which  threatens  us,  than  a  positive  science 
deduced  from  irrefragable  law !  I  say  irrefragable 
with  conviction.  Though  human  laws  be  subject 
to  change,  the  laws  of  nature  are  shown  to  be  im- 
mutable, at  least  so  far  as  the  observations  of  learned 
men  of  all  ages  have  been  able  to  establish  them. 

To  such  assertions  one  objection  arises :  Why, 
admitting  that  the  human  organism  furnishes  exact 


2l8  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

and  complete  means  of  manifesting  art  in  all  the 
departments  of  aesthetics,  should  not  others  before 
Delsarte  have  discovered  that  correlation?  I  have 
conscientiously  considered  and  sought  light  in  this 
direction,  and  the  result  of  my  research  furnishes 
me  only  a  negation.  Although  I  do  not  here 
attempt  a  complete  study  of  the  philosophy  of  art, 
nor  a  general  history  of  the  arts,  I  have  sought  to 
discover  all  that  could  warrant  one  in  presuming  the 
discovery  of  a  law  of  aesthetics  in  antiquity,  particu- 
larly among  the  Greeks. 

I  find  that  in  the  writings  of  Socrates,  Plato  and 
Aristotle  —  who  are  the  best  authorities  —  art  was  a 
dependence  upon  philosophy;  that  is  to  say,  one 
with  it,  having  no  law  outside  of  it.  (Whereas,  in 
the  work  of  Delsarte,  aesthetics  occupies  the  first 
place,  and  philosophy  becomes  accessory.) 

I  will  here  enter'  into  some  details  of  the  ancient 
teachings. 

Socrates  gave  to  his  teachings  a  practical  char- 
acter founded  upon  the  knowledge  of  man.  He  took 
for  his  point  of  departure  man  himself,  and  estab- 
lished (according  to  this  idea)  a  morality  with  the 
motto  of  the  temple  of  Delphi,  — ''  Know  thyself.'* 
This  doctrine  related  more  especially  to  ethics  than 
to  aesthetics  —  as  later  did  that  of  Pierre  Leroux  — 
and  it  was  far  from  being  able  to  direct  artists  in 
their  work. 

Plato  often  discoursed  upon  the  True,  the  Beau- 
tiful, the  Good.     He  strove  to  disengage  them  from 


THE  LAW  OF  ESTHETICS.  219 

the  concrete  that  he  might  derive  some  general 
formulae.  To  do  this  he  employed  the  method  of 
''elimination,"  a  form  of  dialectics  which  I  recom- 
mend to  no  one,  notwithstanding  its  great  value  and 
the  services  it  may  render,  after  all,  to  those  minds 
endowed  with  patience.  What  does  he  conclude  in 
regard  to  art? 

The  Socratic  and  dogmatic  dialogues  —  the 
PJicedo^  the  Gorgias,  the  Symposium,  Protagoras, 
Ion,  Phoedrus — abound  in  allegories,  aphorisms, 
and  in  aspirations  toward  an  ideal,  more  or  less 
clearly  defined,  which  end,  however,  not  by  any 
means  in  a  discussion  of  art,  but  in  such  affir- 
mations as  that  which  closes  the  first  Hippias:  — 
*'  Beautiful  things  are  difficult." 

In  the  Symposium  we  have  a  philosophical  dis- 
cussion interposed  between  two  orgies.  Socrates 
there  maintains  his  title  of  sage,  but  it  is  surely  not 
wisdom  which  presides  at  the  feast.  What  light 
upon  my  subject?  Do  we  here  find  any  con- 
clusive decision  regarding  art?  No!  We  have 
instead  such  statements  as  this :  **  It  is  possible  for 
the  same  man  to  be  both  a  tragic  and  a  comic 
poet."  Then  are  made  some  reflections  upon  time 
in  music.  We  can  as  yet  discover  nothing  like  a 
law  of  aesthetics. 

In  this  company,  where  are  assembled  the  most 
cultivated  of  the  Athenian  citizens,  they  discuss  love 
and  jealousy  of  a  kind  that  the  moral  instinct  of 
modern    society    can    with    difficulty    comprehend. 


220         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

But  these  dissertations  are  of  no  aid  in  the  solution 
which  I  seek. 

And  yet  the  spirit  of  Socrates  at  times  attained 
to  great  heights.  He  puts  into  the  mouth  of  a 
woman  of  Mantinea  the  theory  which  saps  the  old 
doctrine  and  presents  monotheism.  It  is  but  one 
step  thence  to  Christianity,  and  it  was  Apollonius 
of  Tyana,  disciple  of  Pythagoras,  who  established  a 
connection  between  the  idealism  of  the  later  Greek 
philosophy  and  the  spirituality  of  the  new  religion 
taught  by  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 

Socrates,  after  a  discussion  upon  those  interme- 
diate deities,  whom  he  called  daimons,  and  among 
whom  he  places  love,  assigns  to  love  an  origin  and 
strange  attributes  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  explain 
the  remarkable  workings  of  this  passion  at  that 
time.  He  at  once  exalts  and  seeks  to  make  com- 
prehended the  new  god — *'  Beauty  eternal,  uncreated 
and  imperishable,  a  beauty  having  nothing  sensuous, 
nothing  corporeal, — which  exists  absolutely  and 
eternally."     This  is  all. 

Perhaps  this  ideal  of  love,  as  that  of  philosophy, 
may  have  been  expressed  in  the  foundation  of  the 
religious  ideal  of  Delsarte,  but  this  encounter  in  the 
ethereal  regions  of  theology  and  psychology — where 
the  human  consciousness  perceives  nothing  tangible, 
and  whence  it  derives  only  vague  aspirations — im- 
plies no  knowledge  of  anything  like  a  law,  a  science 
or  a  method,  such  as  our  artist-innovator  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  conceived  and  taught. 


THE   LAW   OF  ESTHETICS.  221 

Aristotle,  disciple  of  the  founder  of  the  Academy 
of  Athens,  divided  the  sciences  into  three  classes — 
logic,  philosophy  and  morals.  Within  this  classifi- 
cation art  is  closely  bound,  but  this  philosopher 
made  no  scientific  demonstration  of  it.  His  work- 
ings are  not  those  of  application  and  execution. 
More  than  his  predecessors,  it  is  true,  he  considered 
the  human  organism  and,  in  this,  his  conception 
bears  a  certain  analogy  to  the  system  of  Delsarte. 
Aristotle,  as  well  as  Plato,  advised  the  study  of 
nature,  and  seeking  there  the  elements  of  the  Beau- 
tiful ;  but  they  had  specially  in  view  literature  and 
eloquence.  Further  than  this,  their  precepts  are 
counsels  and  have  reference  to  no  definite  law. 
They  have  not  shown  the  links  of  connection  be- 
tween the  human  faculties  and  the  mechanism  which 
manifests  them ;  they  have  not  taught  man  the 
manner  of  using  his  organs  to  express  artistically 
his  sensations,  emotions  and  thoughts. 

The  Greeks  had  every  advantage  of  models  and 
philosophical  schools,  in  which  art  was  taught.  But 
they  had  no  school  of  aesthetics.  Artists  of  genius 
taught  the  schools  more  than  they  learned  of  them  ; 
and  these  artists,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  have  left  no 
trace  of  theoretical  works,  but,  as  before  written, 
genius  precedes  and  exemplifies  law.  While  Plato 
and  Aristotle  placed  a  beacon  light  upon  the  road 
leading  to  a  law,  they  never  touched  the  goal.  Del- 
sarte proceeded  otherwise.  He  starts  with  a  principle 
clearly  defined  and  everything  harmonizes  with  it. 


222         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

Have  the  historians  and  critics  of  the  Greek  phi- 
losophy discovered  that  which  I  vainly  sought  in  its 
initiators, — a  law  of  (Esthetics  ?  This  is  a  question 
to  be  answered. 

Winkelmann,  in  his  "  History  of  Art,"  says :  '*  The 
fine  arts,  in  their  rise  and  decadence,  may  be  likened 
unto  great  rivers  which,  at  the  point  of  fullest  great- 
ness, break  up  into  innumerable  tiny  streams  and 
are  lost  in  the  sands."  Still  following  this  imagery, 
he  compares  **  Egyptian  art  to  a  fine  tree  whose 
growth  is  stopped  by  a  sting  ;  Etruscan  art  to  a  tor- 
rent;  Greek  art  to  a  limpid  stream." 

Now,  the  law  of  life  of  trees,  streams  or  torrents, 
is  not  identical  with  that  which  governs  the  unity  of 
a  human  life. 

Like  Aristotle,  Winkelmann  states  clearly  the 
principle  that  man  is  the  measure  of  all  things,  but 
he  does  not  follow  up  the  consequences ;  he  reaches 
no  scientific  demonstration  upon  any  point.  Far 
from  establishing  the  existence  of  a  law  of  aesthetics 
among  the  Greeks,  he  simply  remarks  upon  the  ex- 
treme simplicity  of  their  beginnings,  and  shows  by 
what  gropings  they  came  from  Hermes  to  the  most 
perfect  works  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles. 

Mengs  states  that  "  the  first  designs  were  of  forms 
approaching  human  semblance ;  "  and  that  the 
sciences  and  philosophy  must  of  necessity  have 
preceded  the  Beautiful  in  the  arts.  He  thinks  that 
the  Greeks  established  the  proportions  of  their 
figures  by  imitation  of  beautiful  nature. 


THE   LAW   OF  ESTHETICS.  22.3 

From  these  two  commentators  we  have  a  history 
of  the  progression  of  the  arts  toward  the  Ideal. 
Mengs  states  that  the  Greeks  and  the  Etruscans 
have  given  rules  of  proportion  and  style.  But  pro- 
gression, proportion,  style, — all  of  which  proceeding 
from  a  fixed  standard  of  beauty  may  guide  artists — 
the  perception  even  of  the  ideal  which  each  one  in- 
terprets in  his  own  way — cannot  be  assimilated  to 
that  original  law  which  carries  in  itself  all  the 
reasons  of  the  concept,  that  which  contains  all 
conditions  and  means  of  a  true  execution,  —  indi- 
vidual even  to  the  perfection  of  each  typCy  general 
and  varied  as  the  infinite  shades  of  nature. 

In  response  to  the  allegation  of  Mengs,  that  "  the 
sciences  and  philosophy  must  necessarily  have  pre- 
ceded the  Beautiful  in  the  arts,"  I  would  call  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  celebrated  artists — as  Phidias 
and  Zeuxis  for  example — had  produced  their  works 
long  before  the  dialogues  between  Socrates,  Protag- 
oras, Hippias  and  others,  upon  the  True,  the  Good 
and  the  Beautiful.  The  great  painter  and  the  great 
sculptor  could  only  have  proceeded  by  the  intuition 
of  their  genius,  knowing  nothing  of  a  law  of  aesthetics. 

In  that  which  remains  to  us  of  antiquity,  I  find 
nothing  which  implies  such  an  application  of  the 
human  organism  to  the  arts  as  that  whose  discovery, 
promulgation,  exemplification  and  teaching  we  owe 
to  Delsarte. 

M.  Eugene  Veron,  writer  of  our  day,  and  author 
of  remarkable  works  o^  art,  far  from   recognizing 


224  ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

among  the  Greeks  a  law  of  aesthetics,  writes  of  Plato : 
"  He  considered  ideas  as  species  of  divine  beings, 
intermediate  between  the  Supreme  Deity  and  the 
world.  Theirs  is  the  power  of  creation  and  forma- 
tion. .  .  .  Matter  unintelligent  and  self-formed  is 
nothings  and  realizes  existence  only  through  the 
operation  of  the  idea  which  gives  it  its  form.  Aris- 
totle begins  by  rejecting  all  this  phantasmagory  of 
eternal  and  creative  ideas.  He  fills  the  abyss  between 
matter  and  spirit.  God,  pure  thought  and  being 
preeminent,  brings  all  into  existence  by  his  power 
of  attraction  which  gives  to  all  activity  and  life." 

We  wander  farther  and  farther  from  a  law  of  aes- 
thetics and  its  means  of  appHcation  as  established 
by  Delsarte. 

Of  all  the  writers  who  have  thoroughly  examined 
antique  art,  Victor  Cousin  would  seem  the  one 
with  whom  Delsarte  had  most  in  common,  if  this 
eminent  philosopher  were  not  a  contemporary  of  the 
master  and  had  not  attended  his  lectures,  his  artistic 
sessions  and  his  concerts.  In  his  manner  of  treating 
art,  this  is  often  shown  bywords  and  forms  and  flashes 
of  instinctive  reminiscence  which  recall  the  great 
school.  In  his  book,  "  The  True,  the  Beautiful  and 
the  Good"  (edition  of  1858),  the  learned  professor 
writes :  **  The  true  method  gives  us  a  law  to  start 
from  man  to  arrive  at  things.  All  the  arts,  without 
exception,  address  the  soul  through  the  body'' 

He  is  on  the  way,  but  his  position  embraces  neither 
the  starting-point,  which  is  the  law,  nor  any  practj- 


THE   LAW   OF  .ESTHETICS.  225 

cal  means  toward  an  end.  For  the  rest,  the  nearer 
his  propositions  approach  the  law  of  Delsarte,  the 
easier  it  becomes  to  establish  the  radical  differences 
which  separate  them.  Delsarte  does  not  say  that 
'*  the  law  is  to  start  from  man  to  arrive  at  things," 
but  that  '*  man  uses  his  corporeal  organs  to  manifest 
himself  in  his  three  constituent  modalities, — physi- 
cal, mental  and  moral." 

It  is  very  certain  that  works  of  art,  like  all  con- 
crete forms,  can  only  be  perceived  by  the  senses. 
Who  does  not  know  this  ?  But  that  which  is  most 
difficult  to  comprehend,  is  the  just  relation  of  cause 
to  effect — as  to  the  faculty  and  its  manifestation, — 
and  it  is  this  which  Delsarte  discovered  and  made 
clear.  The  one  stated  the  action  of  art  when  per- 
ceived; the  other,  the  necessities  of  the  artist  in 
order  that  art  respond  to  the  law. 

I  shall  have  more  than  once  to  render  justice  to 
Victor  Cousin.  Inheritor  of  the  Greek  philoso- 
phers, he  allows  dialectics  too  great  margin.  He 
wanders  in  his  premises  and  arrives  at  his  conclu- 
sions — when  he  can.  (Here,  of  course,  I  speak  only 
of  art.)  In  philosophy,  Cousin,  beginning  with 
effects,  from  induction  to  induction,  often  arrives 
at  causes  and  states  some  principles.  Delsarte,  per- 
haps, proceeded  thus  while  seeking  to  combine  his 
discoveries,  but  this  accomplished,  he  placed  in  the 
first  line,  synthesis,  whence  all  emanates,  and  this 
focus  of  hght  radiating  in  all  directions,  illumines 
even  to  its  farthest  limit,  the  vast  field  of  aesthetics. 
15 


226  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

Cousin,  after  all,  claims  neither  for  the  Greeks  nor 
for  himself  the  discovery  of  a  law. 

Proudhon,  who  represented  the  Protagorean  school 
among  us,  humoring  his  whim,  produced  a  work  on 
art.  In  this  he  declares  that  he  has  very  little  gift 
in  aesthetics,  and  asserts  himself  a  dialectician,  and 
we  cannot  deny  his  power  in  logic  while  he  regards 
things  from  a  proper  stand-point.  Very  well ! 
Proudhon  challenged  the  Academy  *'  to  indicate  a 
method'' — with  even  more  reason  might  he  have  said 
lazv  of  aesthetics. 

Shall  we,  at  last,  find  among  the  true  critics  of 
French  literature  any  synthetic  basis  which  may 
guide  us  in  all  branches  of  art?  What  do  I  find  in 
"  The  Poetic  Art,"  by  Boileau,  the  great  authority 
of  the  Augustan  age,  —  rhetoric,  beautiful  verses, 
full  of  excellent  counsel?  I  find  there  wisely  arbi- 
trated rules,  a  sieve  through  which  it  would  be  well 
to  pass  the  works  of  our  own  times,  including  the 
verdicts  which  distribute  the  glory. 

But  the  means  of  putting  into  practice  these  valu- 
able precepts — the  criterion  to  establish  their  truth, 
the  touchstone  which  may  distinguish  the  pure  gold 
— does  not  appear !  In  default  of  these  means  of 
certitude,  each  may,  according  to  his  instinct  or  his 
pride,  insist  thr.t  he  has  fulfilled  the  conditions  pre- 
scribed by  the  author  of  th^  Lutrin,  and  judge  his 
rivals  by  the  sole  authority  of  hir  prejudices. 

La  Harpe  and  his  followers  have  distributed  praise 
and  blame,  and  at  the  same  time  said  what  should 
be  done,  but  they  have  given  no  how. 


THE  LAW  OF  ^ESTHETICS.  22; 

More  grievous  still  are  the  meanderings  of  the  crit- 
ics of  our  public  journals.  They  wander  without  com- 
pass and  without  rudder,  approving  or  condemning 
according  to  their  friendships  and  antipathies ;  save 
those  comioisseiirs  cmsriteSy  whose  fine,  sure  taste  and 
exceptional  erudition  are  rarely  able  to  supply  a  law 
and  state  a  reason  for  their  judgment. 

Among  us,  as  among  the  Greeks,  may  be  found 
artists  who  have  given  proofs  of  the  existence  of  the 
supreme  theory  of  which  I  now  write.  Talma  and 
Malibran — in  another  order,  Dejazet,  and  Frederick 
Lemaitre,  even  Theresa  herself,  have,  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree,  exemplified  this  law  imprescriptable. 
These  artists,  marked  by  nature  with  the  seal  of 
their  vocation,  possessed  that  force  of  cruth  which 
produces  sudden  bursts  of  eloquence,  great  dra- 
matic effects ;  in  a  word,  as  before  expressed,  "  the 
happy  strokes  of  genius." 

Yes,  before  and  after  Delsarte,  there  were  and 
shall  be  beings  conforming  by  instinct  to  his  law. 
But  with  him  alone  shall  rest  the  honor  of  its  dis- 
covery and  first  teaching,  and  of  the  establishment 
of  the  science  upon  strong  foundations. 

It  remains  for  me  to  examine  the  relations  between 
the  workings  of  Delsarte  and  those  who  have  treated 
the  same  questions  concerning  the  terms  (according 
to  him,  accessory),  the  True,  the  Good  and  the 
Beautiful ;  and  also  to  consider  the  value  of  each 
branch  of  aesthetics  in  the  entirety  of  the  system. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  ELEMENTS  OF  ART. 
The  Truey  the  Good,  the  Beautiful. 

Though  Delsarte  be  acknowledged  the  discoverer 
of  the  law  of  aesthetics,  he  may  have  held  points  in 
common  with  many  who  before  him  had  had  pre- 
sentiments of  its  coming  and  had  instinctively  experi- 
enced its  force.  Premonitions  precede  the  discovery 
as  complements  should  follow. 

The  True,  the  Good,  the  Beautiful,  constituent 
elements  of  aesthetics,  have  been  diversely  inter- 
preted. From  his  intellectual  observatory,  a  zenith 
whence  the  artist-philosopher  viewed  clearly  the 
whole  and  the  details,  he  may  be  supposed  to  have 
gained  light  beyond  any  which  could  have  come  to 
his  predecessors. 

I  will,  then,  resume  my  parallel  from  this  point 
of  view. 

The  True,  the  Good  and  the  Beautiful  were  not 
made,  in  the  school  of  Delsarte,  objects  of  special 
teaching.  By  definitions,  reflections  and  illustra- 
tions of  the  master,  they  were  shown  to  enter  fully 
into  the  science  and  method — a  part  of  it  distin- 
guishable and  inseparable.  The  master,  in  his 
demonstrations,  commonly  employed  various  well- 
known  maxims  which  were  always  accredited  to 
their  authors.     Thus,  from  Plato:    *' The  Beautiful 


THE  ELEMENTS   OF  ART.  229 

is  the  splendor  of  the  True."  From  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas,  in  regard  to  science :  '*  In  creation  all  is 
done  by  number,  weight  and  measure."  From  St. 
Augustine  (for  he  often  quoted  from  sacred  works)  : 
*'  Moral  beauty  is  the  brilliancy  of  the  Good." 

But  I  must  proceed  in  order.  I  owe  it  to  the  sin- 
cerity of  my  endeavor  to  explain  first  the  aesthetic 
work  of  Delsarte  as  shown  me  by  his  own  teachings 

The    True. 

The  True  Illuminates  the  Thought. 

To  determine  the  signification  of  the  True^  we 
must  first  ask  what  is  truth  f  It  has  been  defined  as : 
"■  A  fixed  principle,  an  axiom."  The  term  truth  has 
been  applied  to  such  or  such  maxims ;  but  there 
are  few  assertions  not  subject  to  discussion  or  which 
would  be  accepted  as  decisive  without  comment. 
They  have  not  that  piercing  clearness  which  deter- 
mines conviction  by  simple  apprehension  or  at  first 
sight. 

The  dictionary  of  the  Academy  is  more  explicit 
in  its  statement:  '*  Truth  is  the  conformity  of  the 
idea  to  its  object."  But  a  preferable  definition  is 
that  of  Madame  Clemence  Royer :  "  Truth  is  the 
concept  of  the  spirit  in  regard  to  the  reality  of 
things  and  the  laws  which  govern  them."  This 
philosophical  statement  is  readily  adapted  to  the 
True  in  the  arts,  which  is  acquired  by  the  observa- 
tion of  nature  and  adaptation  of  the  lawful  ideal. 

How,  then,  may  we  recognize  the  True  in  aesthet- 
ics according  to  this  definition?      The  artist,   first 


230  ARNAUD  ON  DELSARTE. 

and  above  all,  should  disregard  no  law  of  nature, 
but  when  he  aspires  to  great  works,  "  the  concept 
of  his  spirit  in  regard  to  the  reality  of  things  and 
their  laws"  should  lead  him  to  idealize  what  he  sees, 
translating  his  personal  conception  of  the  Beautiful 
and  the  Sublime,  if  his  flight  carry  him  so  far. 

The  word  Art  is  more  comprehensive  in  that  which 
it  expresses,  than  the  word  True.  Art  completes 
itself  by  its  other  elements,  the  Beautiful  and  the 
Good.  Plato,  and  the  philosophers  in  general, 
treated  of  truth  from  the  stand-point  of  philosophy 
rather  than  of  art.  Still  the  great  Athenian  seemed 
to  believe  in  a  sort  of  celestial  museum,  where  the 
artist,  penetrating  by  intuition,  was  inspired  by  a 
vision,  more  or  less  clear,  of  the  masterpieces  of 
divine  conception. 

Delsarte  approached  in  a  certain  sense  this  very 
idea,  but  his  doctrine  of  the  True  in  art,  although 
depending  upon  the  niystic  basis  of  a  holy  Trinity, 
brought  forth  developments  both  rational  and  scien- 
tific which  leave  far  behind  the  Platonic  hypothesis. 

In  the  system  of  Delsarte  it  is  no  longer  a  vague 
ideal  dimly  perceptible,  which  must  guide  the  artist 
in  the  execution  of  his  work,  for  the  imwvator  says 
expressly  that  *'  the  divine  thought  is  written  in  man 
himself."  It  is  therefore  at  the  command  of  every 
one  who  seeks  truth  to  make  it  manifest  in  art.  •  In 
the  new  system,  man  being  at  once  the  ^r//^/ and 
object  of  arty  literary  men,  sculptors  and  painters 
proceed  from  a  basis  ever  to  be  observed  and  studied, 


THE  ELEMENTS  OF  ART.  2^t 

to  rise  from  the  True  to  the  Ideal.  Here  the  flight 
must  be  more  rapid  and,  above  all,  less  deceptive 
than  the  purely  mystic  fancy  of  Plato. 

We  shall  see  in  considering  the  Beautiful  in  the 
arts,  that  far  from  giving  rise  to  arbitrary  and  fan- 
tastic conceptions,  the  great  ideal  must  become, 
according  to  the  science  and  method  of  the  master, 
— the  aggrandizement  and  the  harmony  of  the  fac- 
ulties of  the  human  being. 

The  Good, 

The  Good  Sanctifies  the  Soul. 

What  is  the  Good  in  art?  Here  again  the  philo- 
sophical standard  bars  the  way  and  demands  priority. 
What,  then,  is  Good  independent  of  varied  feelings 
and  of  all  the  varied  and  contradictory  interests  of 
human  subjectivity  which  encumber  it  in  the  minds 
of  the  multitude  of  thinking  people? 

The  Good,  after  this  elimination,  is  reduced  or 
rather  elevated  to  one  simple  idea,  so  general  and 
requisite  is  it.  The  Good  seems  to  be  that  which 
can  give  to  the  greatest  number  of  beings,  existing 
in  the  universe  (conformably  to  their  hierarchy),  the 
greatest  sum  of  happiness  and  perfection,  consider- 
ing, for  humanity,  the  importance  of  the  mutual 
relations  of  the  faculties.  If  this  be  true  of  the 
Good  in  life,  is  not  a  way  clearly  traced  for  art, 
whose  mission  is  to  embellish  existence?  And, 
further,  if  it  be  incontestable,  that  man  cannot 
transgress  the  laws  of  his  nature  without  wronging 


232         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

his  intelligence  and  his  happiness,  even  his  strength 
and  beauty,  how  shall  art  merit  our  love  and  homage 
if  its  power  be  exerted  to  excite  inferior  faculties 
and  subversive  passions?  Are  not  poise  and  har- 
mony  the  best  conditions  of  existence  for  the 
human  organism?  That  which  Plato  demanded  for 
the  Beautiful  in  favor  of  the  True  —  namely, 
splendor  —  Delsarte  demanded  also  of  art  in  favor 
of  the  Good.  His  thought  is  summed  up  in  this 
formula,  ''  Man  is  the  object  of  art."  Man,  being 
artist,  becomes  the  agent  of  aesthetics.  Man,  in  his 
humanity,  is  the  goal  toward  which  should  tend  all 
the  efforts  and  experiments  of  the  art-moralizer. 

The  master  maintained  the  possibility  of  reaching 
this  end  by  two  opposing  ways,  not  contradictory ; 
i.  e.y  the  production  of  the  Beautiful  under  its 
physical,  mental  and  moral  forms ;  and  by  the  man- 
ifestation of  the  Ugly  under  the  same  forms,  exhib- 
iting what  he  called  the  hideousness  of  vice.  Im- 
morality may  be  rendered  poetical  and  artistic, 
because  of  its  being  a  corruption  of  the  moral,  often 
preserving  the  imprint  of  its  origin,  even  throughout 
its  greatest  errors.  Its  agitation,  its  combats  and  its 
defeats  interest  the  judgment  and  the  heart.  The 
Ugly  or  unseemly,  morally  speaking,  is  the  synonym 
of  vice. 

The  Ugly  in  the  language  of  the  arts  has  many 
diverse  significations.  It  is  in  these  shades  and 
variable  proportions  that  it  affects  our  subject,  but 
the  depicting  of  repulsive  things,  foreign  to  morality, 


THE   ELEMENTS    OF  ART.  233 

to  sentiment  and  to  passion,  has  no  right  to  exist  in 
aesthetics.  It  may  be  possible  to  cure  a  vice  by 
showing  its  hideousness.  But  does  this  warrant 
such  exciting  of  the  disgust  of  the  senses?  It  is  an 
outrage  to  the  worship  of  the  Beautiful,  without 
compensation  of  any  kind. 

There  can  be  no  advantage  to  humanity  in  exhib- 
iting the  hideousness  of  disease  or  the  monstros- 
ities of  certain  natural  phenomena !  Open  to  them 
the  museums  of  comparative  anatomy,  but  close  the 
galleries  consecrated  to  the  fine  arts  !  There  exist 
also  monstrosities  which  are  not  included  in  these 
categories ;  they  present  no  moral  danger,  but  are 
disagreeable  and  repulsive  to  good  taste.  They 
consist  of  fantastic  forms,  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  an  inferior  civilization,  reminding  one  of  the 
misshapen  and  gigantic  prehistoric  animals,  whose 
bones  astound  us,  and  which  disappeared  from  our 
globe  that  man  might  appear. 

Among  cultivated  contemporaries  these  eccen- 
tricities spring  from  an  inclination  toward  original- 
ity, caprice,  grotesque  taste ;  from  a  similar  impulse 
to  that  which  directs  literature  toward  burlesque 
and  parodies,  and  the  plastic  arts  toward  caricature. 
Such  productions  may  please  some  distinguished 
and  intelligent  natures  which  cannot  have  been 
highly  favored  in  the  distribution  of  the  delicacies 
of  sentiment  and  the  exquisite  graces  of  wit.  In  a 
word,  the  art  indulging  in  this  class  of  manifesta- 
tions acts  according  to  the  inpde  simpliste.     I  bor- 


234  ARNAUD  ON  DELSARTE. 

row  this  term  from  Charles  Fourier,  and  I  say  once 
for  all,  that  by  it  I  mean  not  the  entire,  but  the  al- 
most exclusive  predominance  of  one  or  the  other 
of  the  modalities  of  the  human  being.  Here  the 
siinplisme  being  altogether  intellectual,  while  it  is 
inferior  to  rrianifestations  in  which  the  being  ex- 
pands harmoniously,  it  wounds  no  essential  in  the 
synthesis  of  the  me ;  while  a  predomination  of  the 
sensual  to  the  same  degree  is  most  pernicious  to  that 
which  delights  in  it  and  antipathetic  to  those  who  do 
not  live  solely  in  the  material  aspects  of  existence. 

Existing  among  the  elements  of  aesthetics,  as  the 
faculties  of  man,  are  certain  dependencies,  connec- 
tions, affinities,  penetrations,  which  render  an  ab- 
straction of  one  of  them  almost  impossible.  Thus 
I  have  anticipated  allusions  to  the  Beautiful  in  con- 
sidering the  Good.  By  thus  connecting  them,  the 
better  to  distinguish  them,  I  have  reached  the  con- 
clusion that  moral  evil  should  never  be  manifested 
in  the  arts  unless  with  the  view  of  redressing  it. 
In  this  case  the  better  its  real  characteristics  are 
studied,  the  more  strongly  they  are  accentuated 
throughout,  the  more  successful  the  work  will  be 
from  the  plastic  point  of  view,  and  the  more  power 
it  will  have  to  repel  those  inward  wrongs  which  it 
denounces,  and  this  even  though  the  intention  of 
the  artist  should  not  touch  this  result. 


THE  ELEMENTS   OF  ART.  235 

The  Beautiful. 

The  Beautiful  Purifies  the  Emotions. 

At  first  glance,  it  might  seem  the  privilege  of 
each  one  to  say,  *'  The  Beautiful  is  that  which  ap- 
pears to  me  as  such."  I  believe  in  this  regard, 
that  the  most  capable  artist,  should  he  be  also  the 
most  perfect  logician,  would  never  be  able  to  per- 
suade sainted  and  simple  ignorance  that  it  should 
not  remain  firmly  grounded  upon  faith  in  its  own 
impressions. 

Place  Hugo,  Mercie,  Bonnat,  Salnt-Saens,  Mas- 
senet, Joncieres  in  the  presence  of  simple  country- 
men— or,  what  is  worse  still,  of  inferior  artists  and 
critics,  of  pretentious  amateurs  —  and  you  will  see 
by  what  supercilious,  incredulous  gestures,  being 
incapable  of  argument,  this  satisfied  ignorance  will 
repel  all  assertions  of  the  great  authorities. 

Should  we,  therefore,  disregard  this  reluctance  to 
recognize  the  features  of  the  Beautiful  in  great 
works?  We  must  at  least  deduce  from  it  the  fact 
that  the  effect  of  art  depends  upon  some  relation 
between  the  observer  and  the  thing  observed. 

Notwithstanding  the  reality  of  the  beauties  of 
such  or  such  a  work,  in  the  eyes  of  many  apprecia- 
tors,  the  subjectivity  of  each  observer  should  remain 
decisive,  vis-a-vis  to  himself,  as  long  as  he  cannot  be 
convinced  by  the  authority  of  a  law ;  and,  finally,  it 
is  imperative  that  his  comprehension  of  that  law 
should  be  rendered  possible  by  preliminary  studies. 
On   the   contrary,   shall  that  which  has  been  recog- 


236         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

nized  as  beautiful  by  the  initiated  ever  since  artists 
created,  and  enlightened  criticism  discussed  and 
judged  it,  appear  now  before  uncultivated  criticism 
as  without  authority? 

In  default  of  law  and  science,  there  is  a  sort  of 
universal  consent  among  competent  thinkers;  and 
their  appreciation  of  the  highest  class  of  works  is 
maintained  by  a  process  of  adhesion  carried  on  by 
every  conversion  from  ignorant  blindness  to  the  light 
of  appreciation. 

The  question  of  subjectivity  in  the  declared  judg- 
ments in  aesthetics  has  given  rise  to  incessant  con- 
troversies which  began,  perhaps,  among  the  Greeks 
and  are  going  on  among  us.  Though  no  absolute 
decision  has  been  reached,  some  excellent  maxims 
have  resulted.  In  default  of  an  irrefutable  definition 
of  the  Beautiful,  there  have  been  given  us  images, 
analogies  and  thoughts  upon  the  subject  which  ap- 
proach and  prepare  for  such  definitions : 

Victor  Cousin  has  said  :  "  It  is  reason  which  de- 
cides as  to  the  Beautiful  and  reduces  it  to  the  sensa- 
tion of  the  agreeable,  and  taste  has  no  further  law." 

*'  Aversion  accompanies  the  Ugly  (unseemly)  as 
love  walks  hand  in  hand  with  the  Beautiful." 

'*  The  Beautiful  inspires  love  profound  but  not 
passionate." 

*•  The  artist  perceives  only  the  Beautiful  where  the 
sensual  man  sees  only  the  attractive  or  frightful." 

And,  again,  "  That  is  sublime  which  presents  the 
idea  of  the  Infinite." 


THE   ELEMENTS    OF  ART.  23/ 

This  last  thought  brings  us  to  Delsarte,  who,  per- 
haps, was  its  inspiration. 

The  following  valuable  thoughts  of  the  master, 
while  not  related  scientifically  to  his  system,  are 
still  allied  to  its  physical  and  philosophical  aspects : 

*'  Form,"  says  the  innovator  in  aesthetics,  ''  is  the 
vestment  of  substance ;  it  is  the  expressive  symbol 
of  a  mysterious  truth;  it  is  the  stamp  of  a  hidden 
virtue,  the  actuality  of  being ;  in  a  word,  form  is  the 
plastic  of  the  Ideal." 

''  The  Beautiful  is  the  transparency  of  the  apti- 
tudes of  the  agent,  and  it  radiates  from  the  faculties 
which  govern  it.  It  is  order  which  results  from  the 
dynamical  disposition  of  forms." 

''  Beauty  is  the  reason  which  presides  at  the  cre- 
ation of  things ;  it  is  the  invisible  power  which 
draws  us  and  subjugates  us  in  them." 

*'  The  Beautiful  comprises  three  characters,  which 
we  distinguish  under  the  following  titles:  Ideal, 
moral  and  plastic  beauty." 

By  the  enunciation  of  these  three  categories,  Del- 
sarte enters  upon  the  positive  aspect  of  his  system. 
As  the  result  of  the  careful  examination  of  the  ap- 
titudes or  faculties  of  the  Ego,  approachable  by 
analysis  and  applied  to  aesthetics,  he  has  established 
this  first  class  of  manifestations  (ideal  beauty)  as 
requisite  to  art.  This  must  result  from  a  combina- 
tion of  the  faculties ;  the  possibilities  of  combina- 
tion being  infinite,  but  always  in  subjection  to  the 
human  being.  The  artist,  according  to  this  personal 


238  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

power  of  inspiration,  should  be  able  to  portray  a 
totality  of  superior  and  harmonious  qualities,  such 
as  will  oblige  any  competent  observer  to  recognize  it 
as  beautiful.  We  have  taken  a  step  into  the  realm 
of  the  Ideal ;  that  is  to  say,  we  have  touched  that 
which,  without  departing  from  the  law,  surpasses 
conventional  rule  and  the  natural  types  accepted  for 
the  Beautiful. 

Before  following  the  Ideal  into  its  ethereal  region, 
we  will  further  consider  the  nature  of  its  foundation, 
which  is  a  combination  of  the  three  mother  faculties 
which  Delsarte  declares  to  be,  in  aesthetics,  the  cri- 
terion of  the  law  and  the  foundation  of  the  science. 
We  already  recognize  these  as  the  physical,  mental 
and  moral  aspects  of  the  human  being. 

The  plastic  art  allies  itself  particularly  to  the 
physical  constitution,  but  the  physique  cannot  be 
perfectly  beautiful  unless  it  manifests  intellectual  and 
moral  faculties. 

Moral  and  intellectual  beauty  reveal  themselves 
in  the  human  being  under  the  empire  of  passion 
and  of  sentiment,  and  the  physique  is  momentarily 
transformed.  The  artist  should  seize  beauty  at  this 
moment  of  fullest  perfection,  above  the  normal  con- 
ditions of  human  existence  and  perhaps  beyond 
possible  plastic  beauty. 

Behold  what  glorious  possibility  for  the  direction 
of  the  artist's  aspirations  toward  the  Beautiful ! 
But  even  this  happy  chance  by  no  means  includes 
all   of  the  possible  conceptions  of  the  Ideal,  and 


THE   ELEMENTS    OF  ART.  239 

neither  does  it  furnish  us  any  absolute  idea  or 
definition.  This  vision  of  beauty,  made  ideal  by 
exaltation  of  the  intelligence  and  the  emotion,  can 
only  be  perceived  by  the  artist  of  practiced  obser- 
vation and  of  that  intuitive  perception  which  is  the 
gift  of  nature. 

Again  considered,  the  Ideal,  being  relative  as 
well  as  the  Beautiful,  of  which  it  is  the  exuberance, 
we  must  remember  that  the  word  is  far  from  cor- 
responding to  an  idea  of  absolute  beauty.  Thus  the 
Ideal  of  an  ordinary  taste  is  not  so  high  as  that  of  a 
person  whose  standard  of  beauty  is  superior,  and 
the  two  will  be  very  distant  from  the  image  con- 
ceived by  the  pen,  the  chisel  or  the  brush  of  a  great 
artist.  In  many  cases  the  Ideal  is  nothing  but  a 
searching  for  the  intention  of  nature,  obliterated  by 
the  circumstances  and  accidents  of  life.  Then  the 
task  of  the  artist  should  be  to  reestablish  the  type 
in  his  logic  —  a  vulgar  face  may  be  portrayed  by  a 
skilful  brush  —  and,  while  preserving  its  features, 
there  may  be  put  into  it  the  culture  of  intellect  and 
noble  sentiments. 

An  artist,  for  instance,  will  see  in  a  woman, 
whom  time  has  tried,  certain  elements  of  beauty 
which  enable  him  to  portray  her  nearly  as  she  was 
at  the  age  of  twenty  years.  He  should  be  able  to 
divine  in  the  young  girl,  according  to  the  normal 
development  of  her  features,  her  appearance  at  the 
complete  unfolding  of  her  beauty.  Yes ;  in  these 
different  cases  the  artist  shall  have  idealized,  since 


240  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

he  shall  have  comprehended,  penetrated,  interpreted 
and  rectified  nature.  Still,  he  may  not  yet  have 
attained  to  the  comprehension  of  perfect  beauty, 
such,  at  least,  as  human  emotion  and  intellect  can 
conceive,  and  such  as  we  love  to  imagine  as  inhab- 
iting the  superior  spheres  of  the  universe  of  which 
we  know  nothing  further  than  the  dictate  of  our 
reason,  namely,  that  they  are  inhabited  by  beings 
more  or  less  like  ourselves. 

When  these  sublime  effects  appear  in  art,  it  is  as 
though  a  veil  were  torn,  revealing  glimpses  of  a 
world  of  ideas,  emotions  and  impressions,  surpassing 
our  comprehension,  approachable  only  by  our  as-- 
pirations. 

Thus,  Delsarte,  superior  to  his  science,  has  shown 
us  the  artist  in  full  possession  of  all  that  he  has 
acquired,  and  the  inmost  charm  of  that  which  is 
revealed  to  him.  In  execution  he  proved  this  truth : 
If  talent  may  be  born  of  science,  it  is  genius  which 
distinguishes  the  highest  personalities,  and  to  merit 
the  title  of  high  artistic  personality  one  must  con- 
tain in  himself  an  essence  indescribable,  unutterable, 
which  constitutes  the  aureole  of  grand  brows,  and 
the  sign  luminous  of  great  works  of  art. 

Thus,  as  virtue,  art  has  its  degrees. 

Art,  in  its  most  simple  expression,  is  the  faithful 
representation  of  nature.  If  the  conception  of  a 
work  or  of  a  type  is  elevated  to  a  degree  of  perfec- 
tion which  satisfies  at  once  the  plastic  sense,  the 
emotion  and  the  intellect,  we  will  call  it  Grand  Art, 


THE  ELEMENTS   OF  ART.  24 1 

Finally,  if,  in  the  presence  of  a  creation,  we 
recognize  perfect  harmony  (which  goes  beyond  per- 
fect proportion)  ;  if  the  work  call  forth  in  us  that 
contemplative  ecstasy  which  gives  us  the  impression 
and,  as  it  were,  the  vision  of  pure  beauty,  shall  we 
not  recognize  Supreme  Art? 

The  system  of  Delsarte  responds  to  all  these  de- 
siderata of  aesthetics.  In  his  law  he  gives  us  the 
necessary  bases;  by  his  science  he  indicates  the 
practical  means,  by  his  method  and  illustrations  he 
completes  the  science  and  demonstrates  the  law. 
Where  is  place  left  for  doubt  or  contradiction? 

He  stated  what  he  knew  and  how  he  had  learned 
it.  In  his  recitals  occurred  innumerable  beautiful 
proofs  of  his  greatness  and  simplicity,  oftentimes 
more  convincing  than  lengthy,  involved  argument 
could  ever  be. 

Some  may  ask :  How  can  a  positive  science  lead 
toward  an  ideal  which  cannot  be  touched,  heard  nor 
seen?  Would  not  this  science  be  the  antipode  (some 
would  say  antidote)  of  the  mystic  dreams  of  Plato 
and  of  Delsarte  himself  ? 

Reply  is  easy.  Delsarte  recognized  in  our  mental 
consciousness  that  desire  for  research  into  the  un- 
known which  would  sound  the  mysteries  of  nature. 
He  did  not  disregard  that  intuitive  force  of  imagi- 
nation which  can  often  form  from  simple  known 
elements  the  concept  of  conditions  superior  to  the 
tangible. 

Between  this  nature,  which  we  hear  and  see  and 
16 


242  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

touch,  and  that  nature  which  the  artist  feels,  im- 
agines, and  to  which  he  aspires,  Delsarte  has  placed 
a  ladder  whose  base  is  among  us,  and  whose  summit 
is  lost  in  the  infinite  spaces  of  fiction  and  poesy.  By 
this  ascent  into  the  realm  of  liberty,  of  personality 
and  of  genius,  the  elect  of  aesthetics  shall  mount  and 
gain,  and,  still  maintaining  their  relations  with  the 
Real,  shall  bring  down  to  us  the  glorious  trophies  of 
their  art. 

Delsarte,  foremost  among  men,  had  climbed  the 
magic  ladder.  His  exquisite  harmonies  in  the  dra- 
matic art  and  lyric  declamation  were  beautiful  in- 
deed, but  the  aesthetic  beauties  which  he  brought 
forth  in  the  roles  that  he  interpreted,  must,  alas  ! 
disappear  with  him.  He  has  left  us  the  bases  of  his 
science,  but  who  shall  so  beautifully  tread  the  way 
— reigning  by  song  amidst  a  thousand  accents  of 
devoted  enthusiasm ! 


,    CHAPTER  VIII. 

APPLICATION  OF  THE  LAW   TO  THE  VARIOUS   ARTS. 

We  have  now  to  consider  each  branch  of  aesthetics 
in  the  totahty  of  the  system,  to  be  assured  whether 
or  no  this  law  discovered  by  Delsarte  covers  all  de- 
partures in  the  domain  of  art.  First,  then,  the 
starting-point  around  which  all  is  centered  and  from 
which  flow  all  developments. 

"  Man  is  the  object  of  art."  This  proposition  ap- 
plies as  readily  to  the  conception  of  literature, 
poetry  and  the  plastic  art  as  to  the  more  active 
manifestations  of  the  dramatic,  oratorical  or  lyric 
art.  Man  being  thus  the  object  of  art  in  all  of  its 
specialties,  the  part  of  the  artist  is  to  manifest  that 
which  is  revealed  to  him,  through  his  three  essential 
modalities, — physical,  moral  and  intellectual  (in 
the  words  of  Delsarte,  life,  soul  and  spirit,  with  the 
divisions  and  subdivisions  that  they  allow),  as  has 
been  clearly  stated  in  the  chapter  upon  "  The  Law 
of  Esthetics,"  and  further  confirmed  in  the  one 
upon  **The  Bases  of  the  Science."  But  though  all 
of  these  primordial  modalities  appear  in  each  con- 
cept and  in  all  artistic  manifestations,  the  proportion 
in  which  each  appears  is  indefinitely  variable.  It  is 
a  predominance  of  one  or  another  of  these  which 
classifies  and  specializes.  It  is  the  harmony,  more 
or  less  perfect,  of  the  components  of  this  triple  unit^ 


244  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

which  determines  the  value  of  artistic  manifestations. 
Under  this  law,  then,  come  all  of  the  arts,  inasmuch 
as  each,  differing  in  subjects  treated  and  in  means 
of  execution,  still  has  a  common  mission,  namely, 
the  revelation  of  impressions,  the  intelligible  ex- 
pression of  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  man.  To  be 
more  clearly  understood,  I  will  from  this  point  con- 
sider separately  the  different  branches  of  aesthetics. 

Art —  Dramatic,  Lyric  and  Oratorical, 
The  proclivities  necessary  to  an  artist,  actor  or 
orator  (intelligence  being  the  first  consideration  and 
beauty  of  minor  importance)  are :  expansion,  sen- 
sibility or  at  least  impressionability ;  a  ready  com- 
prehension of  the  works  to  be  interpreted,  if  not  the 
requisite  capacity  to  execute  them.  One's  particu- 
lar vocation  (or  congenial  line  of  work)  is  the  first 
condition  in  either  of  these  departments  of  art,  and 
into  the  consideration  of  this  must  enter  that  of 
physical  beauty  such  as  the  roles  demand ;  always 
considering  what  has  been  named  "  the  physique  " 
of  the  situation.  In  a  word,  these  three  aspects  of 
art  correspond  to  the  predominance  of  that  modality 
which  Delsarte  calls  "  life ;  "  this  with  the  comple- 
mentary share  of  the  other  essentials  to  maintain  a 
symmetry;  this  for  the  average '' chosen."  As  to 
the  individuality  necessary  for  the  creation  of  a  role, 
general  statements  cannot  apply.  It  is  one  and  en- 
tire for  each.  Should  it  reproduce  itself  identically, 
it  would  no  longer  be  individual.     The  strength  of 


APPLICATION  OF  THE   LAW  TO  THE  ARTS.      245 

a  powerful  individuality  lies  in  the  revelation  of  a 
type  sin  generis. 

Thus  Delsarte  can  never  be  reproduced.  If  by 
an  impossibility  an  artist  having  seen  him,  and  being 
penetrated  by  his  method,  could  assimilate  the 
sum  total  of  his  acquired  qualities  and  his  inmost 
purposes,  still  he  could  be  but  a  copy,  however 
perfect,  since  personality  cannot  be  transmitted.  I 
could  not  pursue  the  demonstration  of  the  applica- 
tion of  the  laws  of  the  human  organism  to  the 
generality  of  the  liberal  arts  without  meeting  an 
objection  which  we  will  consider  just  here.  Some 
one  says :  If  the  law  of  art  is  the  same  as  that  of 
the  human  constitution,  what  need  that  Delsarte 
tesich  that  law — will  it  not  suffice  for  each  artist- 
nature  to  study  himself  in  order  to  determine  satis- 
factory means  of  transmitting  (to  spectators,  audi- 
ences or  readers)  the  thoughts,  passions  or  emo- 
tions which  he  would  reveal,  either  by  his  pen,  his 
chisel,  his  brush,  or  by  the  fictitious  personages  which 
he  incarnates?  I  answer.  No!  The  expression  of 
nature  by  gesture,  face,  or  voice  will  not  come  to 
the  artist  by  inspiration  nor  by  reflection,  especially 
in  extreme  situations.  He  may  chance  upon  agree- 
able effects,  and  even  moving  expressions,  but 
rarely  does  a  just  and  teUing  expression  of  that  which 
he  would  express  result  from  mere  chance.  Caustic 
truth  or  knack  —  more  vulgarly,  cheek  —  comes  of 
influence  outside  of  one's  self.  Upon  one  occasion 
Madame  Pasta  was  heard  to  say:  "  I  would  be  as 


246  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

touching  as  that  child  in  her  tears.     I  should,  in- 
deed, be  a  great  artist  if  I  could  imitate  her." 

Rare,  indeed,  are  the  artists  who  know  how  to 
weep.  The  sublimity  of  art  responds  to  nature's 
simplest  impulses.  By  the  study  and  work  of 
Delsarte  a  science  has  been  created,  every  fleeting 
sign  of  emotion  has  been  fixed,  and  may  be  repro- 
duced at  will ;  and  this  for  the  instruction  of  the 
artist  who  may  never  have  observed  them  in 
another,  nor  himself  felt  the  impressions  which  give 
rise  to  them. 

Application  of  the  Law  to  J^iterature. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  the  predomi- 
nance of  one  of  the  primordial  faculties  in  the  actor 
would  necessarily  differ  from  that  in  the  author  of 
the  drama  or  opera  which  he  would  interpret. 
Literary  capability  presupposes  more  or  less  of 
philosophical  aptitude  and  a  predominance  of  the 
intellectual  faculties,  and  this  not  to  the  exclusion  of 
a  certain  amount  of  artistic  and  moral  development 
in  the  truly  great  writers.  It  is  in  the  field  of  litera- 
ture especially,  that  man  attains  to  a  creation;  and 
whether  his  object  be  a  fellow-creature  or  an  extended 
and  enlarged  ideal, — in  either  and  any  case  facts  have 
furnished  repeated  and  incontestable  evidence,  in 
support  of  the  statement  of  Delsarte,  that  art  is 
always  defective  unless  it  be  the  product  of  the  three 
essential  modalities  of  being,  acting  in  their  relative 
proportions.    This  statement  is  not  to  be  contested ; 


APPLICATION   OF  THE   LAW  TO   THE  ARTS.      247 

but  here  again  these  relations  would  vary  among  the 
writers  upon  science,  ethics  and  poetry. 

The  epic,  most  synthetic  of  literary  productions, 
is  no  longer  in  fashion,  because,  perhaps,  of  the 
growing  rarity  of  heroes.  On  the  contrary,  siin- 
plisme  is  now  deforming  the  greatest  germs  in  the 
drama  and  romance.  The  weakness  often  lies  in  the 
morality  of  the  production,  or  rather  in  its  lack  of 
morality,  often  so  lacking  that  the  author  sinks  to 
the  level  of  producing  repulsive  works  and  cynical 
pictures. 

In  view  also  of  man's  essential  faculties,  but  from 
another  point  of  view,  St.-Simonianism  classed  men 
as  scholars,  artists  and  artisans.  Then  were  added  the 
priests  of  a  new  order  whose  nature,  more  perfectly 
balanced,  was  to  furnish  the  model  type  of  future 
humanity.  This  classification  had  brought  thinking 
people  to  the  consideration  and  criticism  of  a  system 
isolating  and  concentrating  all  development  upon 
one  or  another  of  the  faculties.  It  was  readily  seen 
that  thus  sentiment  would  rush  to  folly ;  sensibility 
without  a  corrective  would  soon  become  weakness ; 
unbalanced  industry  would  lead  to  disregard  of 
health  and  strength,  while  the  triviality  of  the  sen- 
sual nature,  unrestrained  by  mental  or  moral  activ- 
ity, would  soon  fall  into  hopeless  degradation. 
Herein  was  simplisme  most  bitterly  condemned. 
Delsarte,  ever  studying  relations  between  coinci- 
dences in  art  and  the  revelations  of  nature,  arranged 
a  typical  demonstration,  as  ingenious  as  logical,  of 


248  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

the  action  and  play  of  opposing  faculties.  By  most 
wonderful  pantomime  he  showed  a  man  tempted 
to  sin ;  then,  touched  by  pity  for  the  victim  of  his 
desire,  at  last  transformed  by  the  intervention  of 
the  moral  sense,  he  came  by  slow  gradations  to  most 
elevated  sentiments.  One  saw  clearly  the  courage 
of  resistance  and  triumph  in  the  sacrifice.  Then, 
taking  an  inverse  progression,  he  slid  from  this 
height  to  the  opposite  extreme  of  culpable  resolu- 
tions. 

Delsarte  was  the  author  of  this  mute  scene 
which  contains  the  elements  of  a  drama.  The  con- 
templation of  this  wonderful  effect  leads  to  the  con- 
viction of  the  great  value  to  literature  of  the  funda- 
mental law,  which  may  be  applied  to  any  and  all 
literature,  as  a  permanent  criterion  by  which  produc- 
tions may  be  classified  and  judged,  in  their  depart- 
ure from  the  sinipliste  form  and  approach  to  a  con- 
ception in  which  the  constituent  modalities  of  being 
act  in  harmonious  accord.  Here,  again,  we  have  a 
fresh  distinction  between  scientific  and  ethical  liter- 
ature, and  that  which  may  be  termed  the  literature 
of  art.  To  this  latter  class  belong  romances,  dra- 
matic productions  and  poems — works  made  up  of 
shades  of  meaning  and  just  proportions,  which 
should  be  based  on  clear  and  sound  philosophy, 
prudently  disguised  but  indisputable  and  imperish- 
able. Here  is  place  for  the  grace  of  an  agreeable 
wit  and  the  elegant  flexibility  of  a  fruitful  pen. 
More  imperative  than  in  any  other  class  of  writing 


APPLICATION   OF  THE   LAW   TO   THE  ARTS.        249 

is  the  demand  for  individual  touch  and  that  harmony 
of  construction  depending  upon  the  proportionate 
relations  of  those  elements  of  aesthetics, — the  Tniey 
the  Good,  and  tJie  Beautiful.  Thus,  through  aesthet- 
ics, it  is  elevated.  ^ 

To  this  literature  of  art  belong  the  sonnet  of  Ar- 
vers,  and  "The  Soul,"  by  Sully- Prudhomme.  Mus- 
set,  in  his  grace  or  pathos,  is  not  inferior  to  Victor 
Hugo.  There  are,  even  in  his  faults,  certain  effect- 
ive boldnesses  to  which  the  author  of  "  Notre  Dame 
de  Paris  "  cannot  aspire.  Whence,  then,  comes  the 
immense  distance  between  these  poets?  It  lies  in 
the  fact  that  Victor  Hugo,  while  he  is  a  finished 
artist,  shows  himself  also  a  thinker,  philosopher, 
man  of  science  and  erudition.  Endowed  with  a 
profound  humanitarian  feehng,  he  is  preoccupied 
with  the  evils  of  society,  with  its  rights,  its  mistakes, 
its  tendencies  and  with  their  amelioration ;  while 
the  poet  of  *'  Jacques  Rolla  "  — a  refined  sensualist 
—  devotes  his  verse  to  the  unbridling  of  the  tor- 
ments of  imagination  in  delirium,  to  the  agitations 
of  hearts  which  have  place  only  for  love. 

If  comparison  be  made  between  novelists  and 
dramatists  of  diverse  schools,  why  has  not  M,  Zola, 
who  in  so  many  regards  should  be  considered  a 
master,  attained  the  heights  of  eminence  upon 
which  are  enrolled  the  names  of  Shakespeare,  Mo- 
liere,  Corneille,  Schiller,  Madame  de  Stael,  and 
George  Sand?  It  is  because  M.  Zola,  profound 
analyst  and  charming   narrator,  even  more   forcibly 


250         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

than  Musset  breaks  the  aesthetic  synthesis  by  the 
absence  of  morality  in  his  writings.  His  fatahsm  ar- 
rests the  flight  of  that  which  would  be  great;  he 
corrupts  in  the  germ  wonderful  creative  powers ! 
M.  Zola's  great  lack  lies  in  his  considering  in  man 
his  physical  nature  only.  Between  mind  and  mat- 
ter he  holds  a  magnifying  lantern  full  upon  the  low- 
est molecules,  and  rejects  disdainfully  the  initiating 
atom  that  Leibnitz  has  signalized  as  the  centre  of 
life.  M.  Zola  has  created  a  detestable  school  which 
already  slides  into  the  mire  beneath  the  weight  of 
the  crimes  which  it  excites  and  the  disgust  which  it 
arouses.  Should  we  blame  Zola  and  his  disciples 
for  the  danger  and  the  impotence  of  this  method  ? 
Should  we  not  impute  the  wrong  in  greater  measure 
to  philosophical  naturahsm? 

In  considering  materialism  and  naturalism  let  us 
not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  while  materialism  is 
simpliste,  naturalism  (in  so  much  as  it  represents 
nature)  is  essentially  comprehensive  and  necessaril}/ 
synthetic ;  harmony  of  force  and  matter  being  an 
invariable  requisite  of  life. 

Realism,  another  term  strangely  compromised, 
seems  to  proclaim  itself  under  the  banner  of  mate- 
rialism, while  the  Real,  implying  the  idea  of  the  Truej 
cannot  be  contained  in  simplisme.  It  is  a  most 
pernicious  evil  that  writers,  calling  themselves  real- 
istic, still  concentrate  their  talent  upon  the  painting 
of  vicious  types  and  characters  drawn  in  an  infernal 
cycle  of  repulsive  morals. 


APPLICATION  OF  THE  LAW  TO  THE  ARTS.       251 

"Man  is  the  object  of  art."  Never  could  the 
words  of  the  master  more  appropriately  interpose 
than  before  the  encroachments  of  literary  simplisme. 
The  man  of  whom  Delsarte  speaks  is  not  confined  to 
such  or  such  a  category  of  the  species.  He  pro- 
poses that  aesthetics  should  interpret  an  all-compre- 
hensive human  nature,  which  is  not  made  up  alone 
of  baseness,  egotism  and  dupHcity.  Though  it  be 
subject  to  perversion,  it  has  its  luminous  aspects,  its 
radiant  sides,  and  we  should  not  too  long  turn  our 
eyes  from  them. 

Artistically,  evil  or  the  Hideous  (which  is  also 
evil)  should  never  be  used  except  as  a  foil.  There 
is  no  immorality  in  exhibiting  the  prevailing  vices 
of  the  epoch,  but  this  is  the  physician's  duty.  The 
evil  lies  in  presenting  these  evils  under  such  forms 
as  may  lead  many  to  enjoy  or  tolerate  them,  giving 
them  the  additional  power  of  a  charming  style  and 
the  specious  arguments  of  fatality.  This  is  precisely 
the  case  of  M.  Zola.  The  glamor  of  his  disturbing 
theory,  which  annihilates  free  will,"'  gives  to  his 
works  a  philosophical  appearance.  He  conceals  its 
vacuity  beneath  forms  of  a  highly-colored  style,  an 
amiable  negligence  and  a  facility  that  is  benumbing 
to  thought.  As  he  asserts  nothing,  no  one  dreams 
of  contradicting,  and  one  finds  himself  entwined  in 
a  network  of  repulsive  depravity  without  a  ray  of 
healthful  protection  or  correction.  In  comparison 
with  the  blight  of  this  disastrous  system  of  fatality, 
the  coarseness  of  the  writer's  language,  so  loudly 


252  ARNAUD   ON  DELS  ARTE. 

censured,  is  relatively  unimportant.  The  simplisme 
of  M.  Zola  is  not  absolute,  as  but  one  of  the  three 
constituent  modalities  is  omitted,  that  one  being 
morality.  The  lack  is,  however,  no  less  fatal,  inas- 
much as  the  void  produced  by  the  absence  of  one 
of  the  noblest  faculties  of  human  activity  must 
usually  be  filled  by  disturbing  forces. 

I  have  heard  the  theory,  *'  art  for  art,"  supported 
by  men  otherwise  very  enlightened.  "  An  artistic 
production  need  not  contain  a  moral  treatise,"  they 
say,  and  this  is  quite  true,  provided  the  artist  be  a 
quick  observer,  possessing  talent  sufficient  to  handle 
his  subject  harmoniously.  Vice  carries  its  own 
stigma,  and  pure  beauty  surrounds  itself  with  light. 
The  author  should  be  able  readily  to  distinguish  the 
one  as  well  as  the  other,  and  his  precepts  should 
come  as  the  harmonious  result  of  his  experience. 
But  such  a  work,  at  the  mercy  of  an  ill-balanced 
brain  and  unhealthful  temperament,  must  yield  bad 
fruit.  Talent  without  broad  and  true  knowledge  of 
reality,  or  that  which  is,  instead  of  being  invented, 
is  incomplete  in  its  workings  and  results.  Its  crea- 
tions resemble  the  light  of  the  foot-lamp,  of  fire- 
works, of  the  prodigies  of  our  modern  pyrotechnists 
—  pleasing  for  a  time,  dazzling,  captivating,  intoxi- 
cating !  But  lost  in  the  life-giving  beauty  of  a  sum- 
mer's night  or  a  glorious  sunset,  we  are  tempted  to 
cry  out  with  the  poet,  — 

"  Nothing  is  beautiful  but  the  True." 


APPLICATION   OF   THE   LAW   TO   THE   ARTS.        253 

What  can  be  said  of  the  other  simplisme  which, 
in  its  search  for  the  True,  ignores  the  Beautiful  while 
it  disregards  the  Good?  Again,  its  partisans  seek 
artistic  truth  in  its  very  worst  conditions.  Why 
paint  in  full  sunshine,  if  the  intense  light  obliterates 
details  and  confuses  the  shadows?  Does  it  seem 
a  difficulty  conquered?  It  is  far  oftener  a  dis- 
guised insufficiency.  If  my  reference  to  painting 
seem  premature,  it  is  because  I  wished  to  borrow  an 
image  to  show  how  equally  grievous  was  the  faulty 
touch  of  many  of  our  writers  of  renown.  Many 
among  them  seem  striving  to  propagate  the  culture 
of  the  Mediocre  and  Unseemly,  as  a  thousandfold 
easier  practice  than  the  religion  of  the  Beautiful. 

My  present  aim  is  to  show  clearly  the  influence 
of  even  incomplete  simplisme,  in  certain  pernicious 
effects  upon  literature.  Edgar  A.  Poe  entered  the 
realm  of  the  fanciful  after  Hoffman,  and  how  is  it 
that  the  initiator  is  less  dangerous  than  his  disciple? 
It  is  because  of  these  two  simplistes,  who  have  put 
reason  out  of  consideration,  the  first  addressed  him- 
self only  to  the  imagination,  while  the  American 
poet  sounded  the  emotions  to  depths  where  terror  is 
awakened  and  madness  begins  to  sting.  Hoffman 
has  perhaps  upon  his  conscience  some  readers  con- 
fined in  asylums  for  the  deranged,  but  the  far  more 
perilous  hallucinations  of  Poe  must  account  for 
greater  harm.  The  distance  is  great  between  imag- 
ination and  sentiment,  and  should  be  so  regarded. 
This  extravagance  should  surely  not  be  alloweci  \o 


2  54  ARNAUI)   ON   DELS  ARTE. 

usurp  the  place  of  morality,  but  this  is  what  is  done, 
and  greatness  is  not  for  them. 

Another  illustration  lies  in  the  transition  interme- 
diate between  the  romances  of  Balzac,  Frederic 
Soulie,  Emile  Souvestre,  and  Eugene  Sue,  and  the 
poetry  of  Victor  Hugo,  Lamartine,  Beranger,  Bar- 
bier  and  the  impressionalist  school  whose  decline  is 
already  at  hand. 

Of  many  names,  which  have  acquired  notoriety, 
I  select  the  two  which  afford  the  best  contrast, — 
Charles  Baudelaire  and  Jules  de  la  Madelene.  The 
first,  among  other  eccentric  works,  has  left  us  "  The 
Blossoms  of  Evil."  In  the  ideas  which  it  embraces 
it  is  the  successful  production  of  an  imagination 
misled  and  in  distress ;  a  pathological  experience 
probably  prompted  the  conception.  In  it  one  reads 
beautiful  verse  of  scholarly  construction,  and  readily 
perceives  an  individuality  and  originality  of  thought 
and  expression ;  but  no  one  would  predict  or  desire 
that  this  production  should  pass  to  posterity. 

"  Le  Marquis  des  Saffras,"  by  Jules  de  la  Made- 
line, on  the  contrary,  gratifies  both  judgment  and 
feehng.  It  is  a  spirited  painting,  acute  and  pro- 
found, as  well  as  true,  of  human  life,  especially  of 
provincial  life.  The  human  being  is  revealed  in  all 
his  aspects.  Though  the  author  disguises  neither 
errors  nor  weaknesses,  he  presents  clearly  the  redeem- 
ing side  —  the  simple  manners  and  the  humble  devo- 
tion of  sincere  hearts.  This,  then,  is  the  reason  whyy 
sustained  by  a  style  rich  in  grace  and  strength,  full 


APPLICATION   OF  THE   LAW  TO   THE   ARTS.      255 

of  the  breath  of  poetry  which  is  felt  rather  than 
described,  *' Le  Marquis  des  Saffras"  holds  its 
place  as  an  incontestable  masterpiece  in  the 
choice  libraries  that  preserve  the  renown  of  great 
writers. 

A  more  careful  examination  of  the  doctrine  of 
Delsarte — **  The  necessity  of  the  concurrence  of  the 
mother  modalities  of  the  human  organism  to  fulfil 
the  conditions  of  aesthetics" — but  forces  the  con- 
viction that  disregard  of  this  requirement  renders  all 
sterile  and  incomplete,  if  not  monstrous.  Is  this 
equivalent  to  saying  that  the  deductions  from  the  law 
of  Delsarte  tend  to  condemn  in  French  literature  its 
simple  gaiety,  its  graceful  lightness,  and  to  efface 
this  stamp  of  the  race  that  our  ancestors  have  surely 
imprinted  ? 

In  works  of  the  imagination  the  omission  of  moral 
meaning  is  often  more  seeming  than  real,  and  every 
good  reader  should  be  able  to  recognize  this.  How- 
ever, this  negligent  seeming  is  far  less  hurtful  than 
brilliant  wit  concealing  crudities  and  modifying  bold- 
nesses. Writers  of  this  class  do  not  lose  sight  of  the 
fact  that,  while  the  French  character  has  its  audac- 
ities (contrary  to  the  modifications  of  aesthetics),  our 
language  possesses  a  proverbial  chastity,  which, 
even  in  its  farthest  wanderings,  genius  comprehends 
and  respects.  Tact  and  taste  suffice  to  hini  who 
consults  them  to  escape  grossness  of  language.  The 
delicacy  of  the  allusions  leaves  their  images  in  a 
transparent  mist ;   the  very  elasticity  of  the  equivo- 


256  ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

cation  furnishes  a  refuge  for  the  thought  which  it 
disquiets. 

By  art  some  most  delicate  subjects,  very  nearly 
approaching  license,  have  been  pardoned.  We  would 
surely  exhibit  a  tyrannical  and  morose  humor  to 
condemn  to  be  burned  en  place  de  Grcve,  by  the 
hand  of  the  executioner,  the  romances  of  ManoJt 
Lescatit,  and  Dap/mis  and  Chloe  by  Longus,  as  they 
have  been  transmitted  to  us  by  Paul  Louis  Courier. 

But  when  hterature,  realistic  or  materialistic  (or 
whatever  they  please  to  call  it),  freeing  itself  from 
moral  accompaniment,  shows  itself  negative  or  weak 
in  its  creations ;  if  it  be  simpliste  to  the  point  of 
appealing  exclusively  to  the  senses,  limiting  its 
means  of  action  to  the  development  of  the  egotistic 
and  instinctive  side  of  the  human  passions, — its 
works  have  no  longer  right  of  consideration  in 
aesthetics.  The  consideration  of  the  physical  being 
should  surely  figure  in  all  representations  of  life, 
but  it  is  not  necessary  that  from  a  subordinate  con- 
sideration it  should  ever  be  made  all-governing.  The 
body,  the  essential  part  of  our  personality,  is  the 
companion  of  our  higher  faculties.  We  should  be 
mindful  of  it,  making  it  as  beautiful  as  possible,  but 
giving  it  the  reins  would  be  even  worse  than  giving 
power  absolute  to  the  imagination. 

O'nce  more,  impressionalisniy  without  the  control 
of  science  and  of  reason,  has  nothing  to  claim  in 
the  spheres  oif  the  True^  the  Goody  the  BeatitifiiL 


APPLICATION   OF  THE   LAW  TO   THE  ARTS.      2$/ 

Application  of  the  Law  to  Architecture, 
The  productions  of  architecture,  Hke  those  of 
literature,  have  their  origin  in  the  realm  of  thought. 
Architecture  is  not,  like  the  dramatic  art,  in  subjec- 
tion to  the  person  of  the  artist.  It  is  one  of  the 
plastic  arts,  and  of  them  the  most  synthetic  by  rea- 
son of  the  number  of  agents  concurring  in  its  har- 
mony. Its  dependence  upon  form  is  akin  to  that 
of  sculpture,  while  the  value  of  color  in  its  effects  is 
only  less  than  in  the  art  of  the  painter. 

This  art,  essentially  comprehensive,  demands  of  its 
masters  Taried  knowledge  and  that  power  of  coor- 
dination which,  according  to  the  learned  philosopher 
Antoine  Cros,  is  the  highest  function  of  the  human 
intellect.  The  relation  of  aesthetics  to  the  totality 
of  the  faculties  is  here  more  evident  than  ever. 
After  the  manifestation  of  mind  in  the  composition 
of  the  plan,  the  architect's  next  duty  is  to  please  the 
eye.  To  this  end  he  employs  marble,  stone,  wood, 
bronze  or  gold,  and  the  result  is  that  element  of  the 
symphony  which  responds  to  sensation.  The  third 
and  only  remaining  element  of  the  trinity  is  sentiment. 
In  order  that,  rising  above  its  utilitarian  purpose, 
appropriateness- and  mathematical  rules  of  stability, 
the  architect  may  fulfil  the  requisition  of  aesthetics 
and  arrive  at  the  ''  Grand  Art,"  the  remaining  ele- 
ment as  well  as  the  other  two  must  be  perfected  in 
result.  The  perfection  of  this  element  of  sentiment 
is  shown  in  the  work  by  the  Impression  of  grandeur 
or  elegance,  of  grace,  severity  or  delicacy.  The 
17 


258  ARNAUD    ON  DELSARTE. 

triple  necessity  thus  filled,  the  result  is  truly  a  work 
of  art. 

Application  of  the  Law  to  Sculpture. 

The  relation  of  Delsarte's  system  to  sculpture  has 
already  been  alluded  to.  Its  application  here  lies 
principally  in  the  realm  of  form.  The  sculptor  aims 
to  reproduce  finest  proportions  of  face  and  figure. 
He  delights  in  a  beautiful  contour  and,  as  Mengs 
has  said,  '*  in  lines  undulating  and'  serpentine," 
while  he  studiously  avoids  all  simple  straight  lines. 

The  more  limited  range  of  outlook  demands  more 
studied  beauties  and  more  significant  expressions. 
The  statue  —  unlike  the  monument,  which  at  once 
arouses  spontaneous  emotions  in  the  spectator  — 
should  express  the  human  being,  his  sensations,  his 
affections,  his  passions  and  struggles,  and  should 
arouse  an  enthusiasm  of  admiration  while  it  awakens 
sympathetic  echoes  in  the  heart  of  the  observer. 
Here  more  strikingly  than  ever  must  we  recognize 
*'  Man  the  object  of  art."  In  the  light  of  this  truth 
we  should  demand  of  sculpture  the  manifestation  of 
the  human  life  with  its  constituent  faculties,  not  in  a 
perfectly  equal  accord  which  is  never  met  in  nature, 
but  with  such  predominance  as  the  subject  presents. 

In  Greek  art  the  predominance  is  of  the  physical 
aspect.  They  had  before  them  exquisite  models  of 
plastic  beauty;  not  the  sensual  beauty  which  is 
fleshly,  but  a  plastic  beauty  consisting  of  harmony 
of  line   and  form.     Let  us  further  consider  this  dif- 


APPLICATION  OF  THE  LAW  TO   THE  ARTS.      259 

ference  as  shown  in  comparison  of  the  Apollo  and 
the  Bacchus. 

The  Apollo  satisfies  alike  the  intellect  and  the  eye 
by  its  beautiful  outlines.      [VVe  are  not  yet  ready 
to  discuss  beauty  of  expression.]     The  Bacchus  less 
ideal  and  more  humanly  natural  cannot  so  satisfy  a 
highly  aesthetic   temperament.     In   neither  work  is 
there  much  of  sentiment  expressed.     The  distinc- 
tively moral  side  plays  a  secondary  part,  unless  we 
consider  beauty  itself  a  moral  factor, — a  theory  that 
may  be^sustained.     In  neither  beautiful  marble  is 
there  revealed  any  sensual  dominance,  though  the 
Bacchus,    notwithstanding    its    plastic    superiority, 
rather  inclines  that  way.      The  Apollo   has  been 
loudly  extolled  for  the  pride  of  its  attitude  and  its 
divine  calm  in  the  encounter  with  the  serpent  Py- 
thon ;   and  still  it  is  said  that  **  a  god  could  not  have 
cause  for  so  great  pride  in  the  conquest  of  a  reptile." 
But  the  art-critics  have  exaggerated  the  import  of 
the  figure,  which  is  wonderfully  beautiful  without 
being  accurately  expressive.     The  civilization  of  the 
new  era  has  developed  in  man  moral  and  physical 
qualities,  which  furnish  new  expressions  by  which 
the  artist  may  set  forth  that  part  of  human  Hfe  which 
Delsarte  called  ''  the  transluminous  obscurities  of  our 
inmost  organism."     Dating  from  this  epoch  we  find 
in  sculpture  less  of  plastic  beauty  and  more  spiritual 
and  touching  expression.     Who  would  compare  the 
pathos  of  the  Laocoon  to  that  of  Canova's  Magdalen  ? 
The  sculptor  Marcello  (Mme.  de  Castiglione),  too 


260  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

early  removed  from  an  artistic  career,  exhibited 
certain  creations  which  illustrate  this  difference. 
Among  them  is  a  bust,  in  marble,  of  an  Arab  chief, 
which  is  after  the  style  of  the  antique,  beautiful  lines, 
without  expression  (a  predominance  of  the  physical 
element).  In  her  ''Weary  Bacchante"  she  shows 
beauty  tarnished  by  vice,  and  here  the  predominant 
expression  is  sensual.  But  in  her  ''Marie  Antoi- 
nette in  the  Temple  Prison,"  as  in  Mercie's  "  David  " 
and  the  "  Dying  Napoleon,"  it  is  not  the  marvelous 
beauty  which  entrances  us,  but  first  and  above  this 
reigns  the  power  of  expression. 

Sentiment  is  become  predominant.  In  the  '*  Marie 
Antoinette,"  what  bitter  disappointment!  In  the 
"  Napoleon,"  what  disillusion  with  the  toys  of  the 
world  in  which  he  had  reigned  !  In  the  "  David  " — 
Biblical  subject  treated  by  a  modern  chisel — what 
strange  impressions  and  reflections  are  suggested  by 
that  tranquil  head  and  the  wonderful  frailty  of  the 
body  !  how  original  the  conception  of  the  figure,  and 
the  whole  a  tribute  to  the  high  personality  of  the 
artist!  Mercie  shows  not  only  the  work  accom- 
plished, but  in  this  are  glimpses  of  promise  of 
greatness  to  come  which  serve  as  more  valuable 
proof  of  greatness  than  the  masterpiece  completed. 
This  leads  me  to  a  reflection  already  often  alluded 
to,  but  which  I  would  keep  ever  before  you  as  the 
foundation  of  my  argument:  "  Man  is  the  object  of 
art."  He  is  also  the  art-producer,  and  considering 
relatively  the  two  terms  of  the  proposition,  the  mani- 


•APPLICATION   OF  THE   LAW  TO   THE   ARTS.      26 1 

Testations  of  the  faculties  are  not  necessarily  adequate 
between  the  producer  and  the  production.  I  will 
explain. 

The  best  conditions  under  which  an  excellent 
work  of  art  should  be  produced  are  undoubtedly 
the  following :  The  conceiver  possesses  in  the  high- 
est possible  degree  of  development  the  modalities 
of  being  essential  to  the  kind  of  creation  under, 
taken,  and  these  in  their  most  perfect  harmony ;  but 
this  perfection  of  intensity  and  of  the  relations  of 
the  elements  of  the  concept  by  no  means  necessi. 
tates  the  artist's  formation  of  types  at  once  morally, 
intellectually  and  physically  artistic.  This  depends 
upon  the  truth  of  his  subject.  That  he  embellish 
it,  whatever  it  may  be,  by  his  artistic  interpretation 
and  execution,  is  all  that  we  should  expect. 

In  the  new  manifestation  which  we  now  consider, 
where  expression  of  sentiment  is  given  predomi- 
nance, the  artist,  interpreter  of  the  passions,  senti- 
ments, weaknesses  and  vices  as  well  as  of  the  virtues 
and  sympathies  of  humanity,  must,  in  order  to  interest 
or  chasten,  show  to  it  its  own  image,  which  reflection 
will  be  most  frequently  not  an  ideal  of  perfection 
but  a  type  of  suffering  and  vice,  of  weakness  and 
depravity.  A  work  will  be  successful  in  proportion 
as  the  chisel  shall  be  most  indefatigable  in  putting 
in  relief  the  virtue  or  the  vice  which  characterizes 
the  subject.  The  greatest  artist  shall  be  he  who 
renders  most  striking  the  characteristic  predomi- 
nance, whatever  it  may  be,  of  the  type  created  or 


262  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

interpreted.  To  sum  up :  Art  is  proportional  to  the 
faculties  of  the  artist,  and  the  work  is  the  result  of 
an  application  of  these  faculties  to  some  special 
manifestation  of  the  human  ego. 

Impressionalism,  as  in  the  other  arts,  should  be 
considered  in  two  aspects :  the  impression  of  the 
artist  and  that  of  the  public  or  observer.  The 
question  then  arises,  what  kind  of  a  public  should 
be  impressed  that  the  artist  may  merit  a  place  in  the 
higher  ranks  of  aesthetics?  While  we  have  recog- 
nized that  judgments  in  questions  of  art  are  the  re- 
sult of  a  certain  sympathy  existing  between  artist 
and  observer,  we  have  decided  also  that  in  consider- 
ing such  a  question,  all  observers  cannot  be  con- 
sidered equal.  In  sculpture  as  in  literature,  where 
appreciators  are  possibly  more  numerous,  we  must 
admit  that  knowledge  and  capability  or  even  sincer- 
ity are  rarely  of  any  weight  in  the  balance  of  the 
grand  juries  of  history  or  in  the  verdicts  of  con- 
temporaries. The  ignorant  multitude  sanction  the 
grossest  works  because  these  only  come  within  their 
understanding.  Encouraged  by  the  applause  of 
numbers  and  by  the  lack  of  restraint  which  wins 
applause,  artists  descend  the  rounds  of  the  ladder  of 
progress  which  step  by  step  has  marked  the  ascent 
of  the  great*  schools  and  the  great  masters,  and  the 
result  inevitably  must  be  the  return  to  mere  sketches 
in  sculpture,  and  painting  will  diminish  to  imagery. 
This  end  is  quickly  and  readily  reached,  so  easy  and 
so  fatal  is  the  descent  in  these  paths  of  decadence. 


APPLICATION  OF  THE  LAW  TO  THE  ARTS.      263 

**  All  styles  are  good  except  the  tedious,"  a  well- 
known  critic  has  said.  Pursuing  the  import  of  this 
thought,  we  are  led  to  the  speedy  conclusion  that 
the  null  should  never  enter  into  competition.  Noth- 
ing better  than  that  the  condition  of  priority  should 
exist  between  diverse  styles  and  opposite  schools; 
but  why  strive  to  institute  comparison  between  a 
synthetic  idea  and  the  absence  of  synthesis  and  idea, 
between  certain  proportions  and  harmony  and  the 
absence  of  proportion  and  harmony,  between  a  style 
and  the  absence  of  style?  Whatever  the  subject 
and  whatever  the  mode  of  treating  it,  the  intelligence 
of  the  artist  should  always  be  visible  in  his  work. 

I  am  more  and  more  thoroughly  convinced  that 
the  theory  of  Delsarte,  fatal  to  simplisme,  is  the  true 
theory  of  art.  What  can  be  more  simpliste  than 
impressionalism  when  viewed  as  a  school?  It  con- 
siders no  law  or  science,  disregards  entirely  analysis 
and  logic,  the  Good  and  the  Beautiful ;  it  is  given 
over  to  sensation;  vague  impressions  which  are, 
whatever  may  be  said  to  the  contrary,  only  the  in- 
ferior part  of  man's  faculties,  indispensable  surely, 
but  that  which  we  have  in  common  with  the  animals 
and  little  children;  very  interesting  to  observe 
among  animals,  a  charming  grace  in  children,  but  a 
most  unimportant  factor  in  adult  existerite,  particu- 
larly in  the  artist's  life,  unless  it  be  governed  by  the 
intellect  and  subject  to  the  sanction  of  feeling. 


264         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

Application  of  the  Law  to  Painting, 
If  any  art  should  be  given  over  to  impressionalism 
it  seems  as  if  it  should  be  painting.  To  see  and  to 
transmit  what  is  seen, — is  not  this  the  true  office  of  the 
painter,  his  undoubted  mission?  Yes,  on  condition 
that  the  artist  has  the  requisites  for  seeing  correctly ! 
And  if  he  rises  to  composition,  he  must  also  be 
endo\<^ed  with  a  creative  intellect,  with  a  portion  of 
that  mental  power  which  will  permit  him  to  embrace 
a  conception  synthetically,  and  to  coordinate  its 
parts. 

Among  the  impressionalists  of  our  time,  there  are 
assuredly  painters  of  talent ;  but  what  talent  they 
possess  is,  as  it  were,  against  their  will :  the  influence 
of  tradition,  the  weight  of  the  medium  in  which  they 
live  unconsciously  restrain  them.  Then,  it  must  be 
confessed,  this  impressionability  of  the  artist  has  its 
intrinsic  merits,  if  it  is  kept  to  its  place  and  degree ; 
but  it  must  be  regarded  as  certain,  that  if  the  simpliste 
artist  makes  himself  distinct  in  his  work,  it  is  be- 
cause he  contains  within  himself  more  of  the  requi- 
sites for  what  he  undertakes,  and  because,  without  his 
having  summoned  them,  the  faculties  of  the  under- 
standing and  the  aesthetic  sense  have  come  to  his  aid. 
If  Delsarte  admitted  the  precept  that  "  everything 
is  perceived  in  the  manner  of  the  perceiver,"  he,  of 
course,  did  not  admit  that  every  perceiver  should 
make  his  own  law:  his  conception  of  the  aesthetic 
trilogy  would  never  have  permitted  him  to  open  this 
Babel  for  the  vanity  of  ignorance. 


APPLICATION   OF  THE   LAW  TO   THE  ARTS.      265 

To  finish  with  simplisme  or  naturalism,  let  us  say- 
that,  carried  to  its  utmost  extreme,  it  becomes  a  fixed 
idea,  a  monomania ;  has  not  impressionalism  attained 
to  this  even  in  the  choice  of  colors?  It  has  been 
said  of  certain  painters  that  they  had  only  to  upset 
their  palette  on  the  canvas  to  compose  their  pictures  ! 
Yet  this  varicolored  chaos  is  not  the  characteristic 
of  the  school.  On  the  contrary,  certain  favorite 
colors  prevail ;  do  not  green  and  violet  rule  almost 
exclusively  in  some  of  the  most  striking  pictures 
from  impressionalist  brushes? 

There  are  moments  when  we  ask  whether  the 
impressionalists  and  their  adherents  are  not  obeying 
an  impulse  to  contradict  rather  than  a  serious  con- 
viction. In  either  case,  it  is  time  for  many  of  them 
to  furnish  proofs — that  is  to  say,  works, — in  lack  of 
the  reasons  which  they  have  not  even  ofiered. 

After  this  digression,  forced  upon  me  by  recent 
scholastic  quarrels,  let  us  return  to  Delsarte. 

I  have  given  the  reasons  for  his  doctrine  in  other 
chapters;  this  doctrine  will  gain  strength  when  I 
show  what  I  have  gathered  from  his  science,  since 
science  and  law  mutually  testify  for  each  other; 
since  all  art,  acquiring  fresh  vigor  from  its  source, 
law,  and  enlightened  by  the  aid  of  these  same  for- 
mulae, must  bear  the  impress  of  truth,*beauty  and 
goodness. 

Even  where  color  occupies  in  painting  the  place 
attributed  to  outline  in  sculpture,  there  are  in  these 
two  manifestations  of  mental  images^ — and  in  spite 


266  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

of  the  synthetism  peculiar  to  painting,  —  striking 
similitudes. 

As  regards  physical  manifestations,  both  these 
arts  should  seek  truth  —  which  does  not  mean 
literal  exactness,  —  and  all  that  has  been  said  of 
simplisme,  in  regard  to  sculpture,  is  perfectly  appli- 
cable to  that  part  of  painting  which  treats  of  the 
human  figure.  Science  and  law  lay  down  the  same 
rules  for  both,  —  save  for  the  differing  modes  of 
execution. 

It  is  another  matter  when  it  is  a  question  of 
representing  nature  as  a  whole,  and  under  less 
limited  forms :  seas,  mountains,  the  atmosphere 
and  broad  plains  —  landscapes  of  vast  extent, — 
subjects  forbidden  to  sculpture  even  more  exclu- 
sively than  simple  compositions  of  several  figures, 
which  are  seldom  successful  in  sculpture.  For  if 
sculpture  sometimes  makes  a  group,  if  it  is  used  to 
decorate  monuments  and  tombs,  it  offers  nothing 
analogous  to  those  magnificent  phases  of  nature 
which  we  find  on  the  canvases  of  the  great  masters. 

Delsarte,  who  from  the  laws  of  mimetics  deduced 
for  painters  means  of  expressing  correctly  every 
impression  and  emotion  which  man  can  feel,  taught 
nothing  in  regard  to  this  special  field  of  the  land- 
scape artist,  who  is  not  subject  to  the  conditions  of 
the  actor,  sculptor  or  orator.  But,  if  this  aspect 
of  art — save  in  cases  where  figures  are  introduced 
—  does  not  come  under  the  head  of  certain  state- 
ments of  our  science,  not  having  to  imitate  attitude, 


APPLICATION   OF  THE   LAW  TO   THE  ARTS.      26/ 

gesture  or  voice  —  in  a  word,  anything  proceeding 
from  the  human  organism,  —  it  is,  perhaps  more 
closely  than  elsewhere,  allied  to  the  innovator's  law : 
to  that  law  which  prompts  the  artist  to  respond  to 
the  psychical  aspirations  of  his  fellowmen,  and 
demands  that  in  satisfying  the  senses,  he  should  also 
arouse  or  inspire  the  thought  and  feeling  of  beauty. 

Thus  the  painter  of  nature,  as  much  of  a  reality 
as  man,  but  a  reality  in  its  own  way,  if  he  desires  to 
make  nature  understood  and  loved,  must  give  it  the 
stamp  of  his  own  ideas,  his  own  feelings,  his  own 
impressions. 

Why  should  I  care  to  be  shown  trees  and  waters, 
valleys  and  mountains,  if  the  tree  does  not  tell  me 
of  the  coolness  of  its  shade,  if  the  water  does  not 
reveal  the  peace  of  the  deep  lake,  if  I  cannot 
divine  the  rippling  of  the  brook,  if  the  valley  does 
not  make  me  long  to  plunge  into  its  depths  !  Why 
recall  to  me  the  mountain,  if  its  curves  do  not  rouse 
in  my  mind  any  ideas  of  grace,  elegance  and 
majesty, —  if  its  peaks  do  not  make  me  dream  of 
the  Infinite ! 

However  skilful  the  artist  may  be  in  the  repro- 
duction of  form  and  the  handling  of  color,  he  will 
always  be  far  inferior  to  nature  if  his  soul  has  never 
heard  the  inner  murmur  of  all  those  mysteries  of 
the  sensitive,  and  I  will  venture  to  say,  spiritual  life, 
contained  in  forests,  waterfalls  and  ravines.  Lack- 
ing this  initiation,  he  will  play  the  cold  and  flavor- 
less part  of  one  who  tells  a  twice-told  tale ;   for  it 


268         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

is  in  landscape  especially,  that  talent  consists  in 
revealing  the  painter's  own  feeling. 

The  charm  of  things  felt  is  not  produced  merely 
by  a  grand  way  of  looking  at  things :  the  mind,  the 
soul,  occupy  but  little  space ;  but  where  they  figure, 
the  canvas  is  well  filled,  and  the  brush  betrays  their 
presence. 

I  remember,  in  support  of  my  thesis,  that  at  one 
of  the  annual  expositions  at  the  Salon  —  which  then 
represented  the  aristocracy  of  painting,  —  there  was 
a  tiny  picture:  a  hut  half  hidden  in  moss  and 
flowers.  It  was  almost  lost  among  the  portraits  of 
distinguished  personages,  the  historic  incidents,  the 
scenes  taken  from  fashionable  life,  and  almost 
drowned  in  the  bloody  reflections  from  the  vast 
display  of  battle  pictures,  which,  as  was  then  the 
custom,  monopolized  half  the  space. 

Well !  this  canvas,  a  yard  wide  and  not  so  long, 
held  you  captive,  took  your  thought  prisoner,  and 
inevitably  impressed  itself  on  your  memory.  You 
longed  to  ramble  over  its  thick  turf;  to  enter  that 
cottage  whose  open  windows  gave  you  the  feeling 
that  it  was  a  peaceful  shelter ;  you  loved  that  poor 
simplicity,  which  seemed  to  hide  happiness. 

Certainly  the  author  of  this  graceful,  touching 
picture  practiced  Delsarte's  law,  at  least  from  in- 
tuition. 

Profound  emotions  are  not  always  due  to  ob- 
jective beauty ;  the  beauty  of  the  work  is  a  thing 
apart  from  what  it  represents,    Who  does  not  recall, 


APPLICATION  OF  THE  LAW  TO  THE  ARTS.      269 

in  another  order  of  talent,  this  effect,  due  to  the 
brush  of  Bonnat:  an  ugly,  old  Spanish  woman  is 
praying  in  a  dark  chapel ;  she  prays  with  eyes,  lips 
and  soul.  There  was  never  seen  more  complete 
absorption,  more  complete  forgetfulness  of  self  in 
humble  fervor.  It  was  far  more  touching  than  all 
the  types  of  sensual  beauty,  with  pink  and  white 
and  perfumed  skins  —  with  delicate  limbs,  in  dis- 
agreeable attitudes ! 

This  is,  yet  once  again,  due  to  the  fact  that  senti- 
ment is  stronger  than  sensualism ;  and  because  the 
artist's  skill,  taking  the  place  of  beauty  in  his  sub- 
ject, becomes  genuine  aesthetic  beauty:  so  much  so 
that,  looking  at  old  age  and  ugliness  —  as  repre- 
sented by  Bonnat, —  the  spectator  is  enchanted  and 
applauds  —  the  success  of  the  work  ! 

If,  however,  to  perfect  execution  is  allied  beauty — 
not  sensual,  but  aesthetic, —  if  it  is  made  manifest 
from  the  point  of  view  of  form,  feehng  and  thought, 
the  enthusiasm  will  be  still  greater,  because  all  the 
aims  of  art  are  realized  at  one  and  the  same  time. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
delsarte's  beginnings. 

"The  artist,  a  traveller  on  this  earth,  leaves  behind  imperishable 
traces  of  his  being." — Frangois  Delsarte. 

We  would  fain  prolong  the  faintest  rays  of  all 
that  glitters  and  fades  too  soon,  and  if  intense  light 
is  generated  in  a  human  brain,  we  strive  to  retain  its 
every  reflection.  Nothing  is  indifferent  which  con- 
cerns the  nature  of  the  chosen  few ;  great  men  belong 
to  the  annals  of  their  nation,  and  history  should  be 
informed  regarding  them. 

Francois  Delsarte  left  this  life  at  the  moment 
when  misfortune  had  crushed  France  beneath  her 
iron  heel  for  some  ten  years.  The  date  of  his  death 
— ^July  20,  1 87 1 — partially  explains  the  silence  of 
the  press  on  the  occasion  of  so  vast  a  social  loss. 

The  circumstance  of  an  artistic  education,  which 
was  carried  on  in  my  presence,  gave  me  opportunity 
to  collect  a  mass  of  incidents  and  observations  in 
regard  to  the  great  artist  who  is  the  object  of  this 
sketch. 

I  collected  ideas  in  regard  to  his  instruction,  his 
method  and  his  discovery  of  the  laws  of  aesthetics, 
which  are  the  more  precious  that  nothing,  or  almost 
nothing,  was  published  by  him  touching  upon  subjects 
of  such  supreme  importance.  It  is  my  duty  to  tell 
what  I  know. 


delsarte's  beginnings.  271 

I  have  already  established  the  bases  of  the  work 
which  I  now  undertake,  in  a  pamphlet  containing 
several  articles  published  in  various  newspapers. 
These  articles  were  written  under  the  inspiration  of 
the  moment;  they  won  the  master's  approval.  I 
shall  have  frequent  recourse  to  them  to  correct  the 
errors  of  memory  and  give  more  vivid  Hfe  to  that 
now  distant  past. 

Delsarte  was  born  at  Solesmes  (Department  of 
the  North),  November  9,  1811.  His  father  was  a 
practicing  physician ;  but  tormented  by  a  genius  for 
invention,  he  spent  his  time  and  money  in  studies 
and  experiments.  Then,  when  he  succeeded  in 
producing  some  mechanical  novelty,  some  capitalist 
more  used  to  trade  and  rich  enough  to  start  the 
affair,  usually  reaped  all  the  profits.  This  condition 
of  things,  of  course,  produced  great  poverty  in  the 
family  of  the  inventor,  and  the  children's  education 
suffered  in  consequence,  and  yet  young  Francois 
even  then  showed  signs  of  superior  endowments. 
A  missionary,  passing  through  Solesmes,  said  to 
him :  **  As  for  you,  I  don't  know  what  you  will  turn 
out,  but  you  will  never  be  an  ordinary  man  !  "  In 
spite  of  this,  his  parents  intended  him  for  trade, 
being  unable  to  direct  his  talents  toward  science  and 
the  liberal  arts. 

Before  proceeding  farther,  I  must  consider  a 
question  often  asked  in  regard  to  the  great  artist, 
and  concerning  which  his  family  have  kindly  informed 
me. 


2/2  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

For  a  long  time  Delsarte  signed  his  name  in  a 
single  word,  as  I  write  it  now ;  why,  then,  should  we 
ever  see  it  written  with  the  separate  particle,  which 
seems  to  aim  at  nobility  and  which  gives  us  the 
form,  del  Sarte  ?  I  will  give  you  the  tradition  as  it 
is  told  in  Solesmes,  and  as  the  artist  heard  it  during 
a  visit  to.  his  native  place.  If  it  be  fiction,  it  is  not 
without  interest,  and  I  take  pleasure  in  telling  it. 

The  natives  of  Solesmes  say  that  at  a  very  re- 
mote period  a  great  painter,  coming  from  a  dis- 
tance, spent  some  time  in  their  town.  The  good 
inhabitants  of  the  place  know  nothing  of  the  pic- 
tures which  this  master  must  have  produced ;  per- 
haps they  are  quite  as  wide  from  his  name  !  But 
Delsarte,  struck  by  the  probability  of  this  poetic 
origin,  filled  with  brotherly  sympathy  for  the  pure 
and  graceful  talent  of  Vannuchi  del  Sarto,  doubted 
not  that  the  latter  was  the  artist  whose  memory  is 
held  sacred  in  Solesmes.  Out  of  respect  and  vene- 
ration for  the  Italian  master,  he  divided  the  sylla- 
bles, but  still  retained  the  French  termination  of  his 
name. 

We  can  readily  see  that  an  imaginative  spirit, 
such  as  we  now  have  to  deal  with,  would  be  carried 
away  by  the  legendary  side  of  this  story,  and  that 
he  would  put  full  faith  in  his  own  commentaries : — 
he  believed  so  many  things ! 

To  return  to  prose  and  to  reality,  I  must  add  that 
Delsarte  based  his  sentiment  upon  partial  proof. 
Before  the  Revolution,  the  family  did  indeed  sign 


DELSARTE'S   BEGINNINGS.  2^3 

themselves  del  Sarte;  but  an  ancestor  —  imbued 
with  the  principles  of  1789,  and  anxious  to  efface 
all  suspicion  of  noble  origin  —  effected  a  fusion  of 
the  two  parts  of  the  word,  and  left  us  the  name  as 
we  have  known  it  and  as,  perhaps,  we  regret  it. 

Those  who  regard  this  change  of  family  name  as 
mere  vanity  seem  to  me  wide  of  the  truth.  A 
strange  nobility,  moreover,  that  of  Vannuchi,  sur- 
named  del  Sarto !  Sarto  may  be  translated  as 
tailor;  therefore  Vannuchi  del  5^r/^  would  mean: 
Vannuchi  of  the  tailor^  shor":  for  Vannuchi,  son  of 
the  tailor. 

What  need  had  he  of  empty  honors,  he  who 
was  on  equal  terms  with  the  great  men  of  letters, 
science  and  the  arts,  who  was  surrounded  by  the 
incense  of  the  most  legitimate  enthusiasm,  and  who 
received  the  homage  of  kings  as  of  less  value  than 
the  praises  of  Spontini  and  Reber ! 

I  return  to  my  sketch  which  will,  I  hope,  justify 
these  last  remarks. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  speak,  the  poor  child 
was  not  treated  as  the  predestined  favorite  of  art 
He  had  been  entrusted  to  people  who  ill  fulfilled 
their  mission.  He  was  scolded  and  abusedj  he 
was  left  destitute  of  the  most  necessary  things. 
He  felt  this  injustice,  and,  gifted  with  a  precocious 
sensibility,  he  suffered  greatly  from  it. 

Francois  had  as  a  companion  in  misfortune,  one 
of  his  brothers,  who  could  not  bear  the  hard  life; 
born  feeble,  he  soon  succumbed.  This  was  a  severe 
18 


274  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

trial  to  the  future  artist !  When  he  saw  his  only 
friend  buried  in  the  common  grave,  he  could  not 
contain  his  grief. 

"  I  rebelled,"  he  tells  us,  "  at  the  idea  of  losing 
sell  trace  of  this  tomb.  I  shrieked  aloud.  I  would 
not  leave  the  mournful  place !  " 

The  grave-diggers  took  pity  on  his  despair ;  they 
promised  to  mark  the  spot.  The  child  resigned 
himself  to  fate  and  departed.  I  will  let  him  speak 
for  himself : 

"  I  crossed  the  plain  of  St.  Denis  (it  was  in  De- 
cember) ;  I  had  eaten  little  or  nothing,  and  I  had 
wept  much.  Great  weakness  combined  with  the 
dazzling  light  of  the  snow,  made  me  dizzy.  The 
fatigue  of  walking  being  added  to  this,  I  fell  upon 
the  damp  earth  and  fainted  dead  away." 

What  followed  may  be  explained  by  the  ecstatic 
state  often  experienced  on  coming  out  of  a  fainting-fit. 

"  Everything  seemed  to  smile  into  my  half-open 
eyes ;  the  vault  of  heaven  and  the  iridescent  snow 
made  magical  visions  about  me ;  the  slight  roaring 
in  my  ears  lulled  me  like  a  confused  melody ;  the 
wind,  as  it  blew  over  the  deserted  plain,  brought  me 
distant,  vague  harmonies." 

Defsarte  interpreted  what  he  saw  in  the  light  of 
Christian  ideas :  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  angels 
made  this  delightful  concert  to  console  him  in  his 
misery  and  to  strengthen  him  to  bear  his  hard  lot. 

Rising  up,  the  child  felt  himself  a  musician.  He 
soon  evinced  an  utter  contempt  for  the  china  paint- 


delsarte's  beginnings.  :275 

ing  to  which  he  had  been  bound  apprentice.  That 
too  was  an  art ;  but  of  that  art,  the  angels  had  said 
nothing. 

How  was  he  to  learn  music? 

He  knew  that  by  a  knowledge  of  a  very  small 
number  of  signs,  one  could  sing  and  play  on  instru- 
ments. He  talked  of  this  to  all  who  would  listen ; 
he  questioned  and  inquired : — 

"Do  you  know  music,  you  fellows?"  he  asked 
some  school  boys  of  his  own  age. 

"  A  little,"  said  some. 

"  Well !  what  do  they  teach  you?  " 

"  They  teach  us  to  know  our  notes." 

"What  notes?" 

"  Do,  re,  mi,  fa,  sol,  la,  si." 

"What  else?" 

"  That  is  all." 

"  Are  there  no  more  notes?  " 

"  Not  one  !  " 

"  How  happy  I  am !  I  know  music !  "  cried  the 
delighted  Delsarte. 

"  Cries  of  joy  have  their  sorrows,"  said  a  poet. 
The  child  had  uttered  his  cry  of  joy,  and  his  tor- 
ments were  about  to  begin.  Seven  notes  !  It  was 
a  whole  world;  but  what  was  he  to  do  with  them? 
He  scarcely  knew,  although  he  was  enchanted  to 
possess  the  treasure.  Could  he  foresee  the  revela- 
tions which  art  had  in  store  for  him?  Still  less 
could  he  predict  those  conquests  in  the  realm  of  the 
ideal  which  cost  him  so  many  sleepless  nights. 


2)6  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

It  must  be  confessed,  superior  talents  bring  suffer- 
ing to  their  fortunate  possessor.  They  console  him 
on  his  journey,  along  the  rough  road  down  which 
they  drag  him;  they  sometimes  reward  one  of  the 
elect,  but  it  is  their  nature  to  cause  suffering. 

And  so  Francois  Delsarte  was  tempest-tossed 
while  yet  a  child.  He  soon  saw  that  his  scientific 
baggage  was  but  small;  he  felt  that  something 
unknown,  something  infinite,  barred  his  passage,  so 
soon  as  he  strove  to  approach  the  goal  which,  in 
an  outburst  of  joy,  he  fancied  within  his  grasp. 
What  hand  would  guide  him  to  enter  on  the  dazzling 
career  which  he  had  dimly  foreseen?  Where  should 
he  get  books?     Who  would  advise  him? 

Well !  these  impossible  things  were  all  found  —  in 
scanty  measure,  no  doubt,  and  somewhat  capri- 
ciously ;  but  still  the  means  for  learning  were 
provided  for  his  greed  of  knowledge. 

At  first,  his  stubborn  will  had  only  the  seven  notes 
of  the  scale  to  contend  with.  He  combined  them 
in  every  possible  way.  He  derived  musical  phrases 
from  them ;  at  the  same  time,  he  listened  with  all 
his  ears  to  church  music,  to  street  musicians,  to 
church  organs  and  hand-organs. 

In  these  first  struggles  with  knowledge  —  we  can- 
not call  it  science  yet,  —  instead  of  bowing  to  the 
method  of  some  master,  Delsarte  made  a  method 
for  himself.  Had  it  any  resemblance  to  that  which 
— ^with  the  progress  of  time, — his  genius  revealed  to 
him  ?     I  cannot  say,  and  probably  the  thought  never 


delsarte's  beginnings.  277 

occurred  to  him.  However  it  may  be,  Delsarte  said 
that  he  learned  a  great  deal  by  this  autonomic  pro- 
cess :  in  fact,  one  who  is  restrained  by  nothing,  who 
satisfies  a  passion  instead  of  accomplishing  a  mere 
act  of  obedience,  may  enlarge  his  horizon  and  dig 
to  whatever  depth  he  sees  fit.  In  this  case,  study 
is  called  research  ;  if,  by  this  method,  one  loses  the 
benefit  of  the  experience  of  others,  he  becomes 
more  quick  at  discovery.  Is  not  the  puzzle  which 
we  work  out  for  ourselves  more  readily  remembered 
than  the  ideas  which  are  merely  learned  by  heart? 

A  wise  man,  a  disciple  of  Socrates  —  who  has 
been  greatly  ridiculed,  but  by  whose  lessons  the 
science  of  pedagogy  has  greatly  profited, — ^Jacotot, 
gave  similar  advice  to  teachers :  "  Put  your  ques- 
tions, but  let  the  scholar  think  and  work  out  his 
answers  instead  of  putting  them  into  his  mouth." 

The  talent  of  young  Francois  once  established, 
he  left  the  inhospitable  house  where  he  had  been  so 
misunderstood,  and  was  taken  into  the  family  of  an 
old  musician,  ''  Father  Bambini,"  as  Delsarte  loved 
to  call  him. 

Here,  finding  it  in  the  order  of  facts,  I  must 
repeat  almost  literally  a  page  from  the  little  work 
quoted  before. 

Father  Bambini  was  one  of  those  old-fashioned 
masters,  who  treat  their  art  with  love  and  venera- 
tion. He  gave  concerts  at  which  he  was  at  once 
performer  and  audience,  judge  and  client.  Delsarte 
was  sometimes  present.    He  saw  the  good  man  take 


2/8         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

up  a  Gluck  score  as  one  handles  a  sacred  book ;  he 
surprised  him  pressing  it  to  his  heart,  or  to  his  head, 
as  if  to  win  a  blessing  from  the  great  soul  which 
poured  itself  forth  in  these  immortal  compositions. 

Here  we  most  assuredly  have  the  foundation  of 
the  unlimited  admiration  which  our  great  artist  felt 
for  the  author  of  **Alcestis"  and  of  **  Iphigenia." 
Everyone  knows  that  it  was  Delsarte  who  drew 
Gluck  from  the  oblivion  in  which  he  had  languished 
since  the  beginning  of  the  century.  Delsarte  alone 
could  have  revived  him,  his  assured  and  majestic 
talent  being  amply  capable  of  correctly  interpreting 
those  colossal  works.  Delsarte  is  the  equivalent  of 
Gluck,  and,  if  we  may  say  so,  the  incarnation  of  his 
thought.  When  the  artist  sang  a  part  in  those  lyric 
tragedies  of  which  Gretry  says  :  "  They  are  the  very 
expression  of  truth,"  it  seemed  as  if  the  illustrious 
chevaHer  lived  again  in  him  to  win  better  compre- 
hension than  ever  before  and  to  be  avenged  at  last 
for  all  the  injustice  and  bad  taste  from  which  he  had 
suffered. 

Delsarte  received  no  very  regular  musical  educa- 
tion from  Father  Bambini.  The  lesson  was  often 
given  while  the  teacher  was  shaving,  which  did  not 
distract  the  attention  of  either  party.  The  master, 
having  no  hand  at  liberty  to  hold  a  book,  made  his 
pupil  explain  all  the  exercises  aloud,  sing  every 
composition,  and  read  at  sight  the  authors  with 
whom  he  wished  him  to  be  familiar.  Great  progress 
can  be  made  where  there  is  such  mutual  good  will. 


delsarte's  beginnings.  279 

They  had  faith  in  each  other :  the  child,  because  he 
saw  that  his  master  really  loved  his  art;  the  old 
musician,  because  he  realized  that  his  scholar  had 
a  genuine  vocation  and  would  be  a  great  artist. 

One  evening  they  were  walking  together  in  the 
Champs  Elysees.  Carriages  rolled  by  filled  with 
fashionable  people.  The  humble  pedestrians  were 
surrounded  by  luxury.  Suddenly  Father  Bambini 
turned  toward  his  scholar: 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  "  all  these  people  who  have 
their  carriages,  their  liveried  lackeys  and  their  fine 
clothes ;  well,  the  day  will  come  when  they  will  be 
only  too  glad  to  hear  you,  and  they  will  envy  yoji 
because  you  are  so  great  a  singer." 

The  child  was  deeply  moved ;  not  by  this  promise 
of  future  glory;  not  by  the  thought,  that  by  fame 
he  should  gain  wealth ;  but  he  seemed  to  see  his 
dream  realized  in  a  remote  future.  That  dream  was 
the  complete  mastery  of  his  art ;  it  was  his  ideal 
attained,  or  closely  approached.  This  mode  of 
feeling  already  justified  the  prediction. 

Delsarte  retained  a  grateful  memory  of  another 
teacher.  M.  Deshayes,  he  said,  spurred  him  on  to 
scientific  discovery,  as  Bambini  directed  his  attention 
and  his  taste  to  the  works  of  the  great  masters. 

One  day,  as  the  young  man  was  studying  a  certain 
role,  M.  Deshayes,  busily  talking  with  some  one 
else  and  not  even  glancing  toward  his  pupil,  ex- 
claimed : 

*'  Your  gesture  is  incorrect !  "  - 


280         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

When  they  were  alone  Delsarte  expressed  his 
astonishment. 

"You  said  my  gesture  was  incorrect,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  and  you  could  not  see  me." 

"  I  knew  it  by  your  mode  of  singing." 

This  explanation  set  the  young  disciple's  brain  in 
a  whirl.  Were  there,  then,  affinities,  a  necessary 
concordance  between  the  gesture  and  the  inflections 
of  the  voice?  And,  from  this  slight  landmark,  he 
set  to  work,  searching,  comparing,  verifying  the 
principle  by  the  effects,  and  vice  versa. 

He  gave  himself  with  such  vigor  to  the  task  that, 
from  this  hint,  he  succeeded  little  by  little  in  estab- 
lishing the  basis  of  his  system  of  aesthetics  and  its 
complete  development. 

After  these  beginnings,  which  Delsarte  considered 
as  a  favorable  initiation,  Father  Bambini — his  faithful 
patron — thought  that  he  required  a  more  thorough 
musical  education,  and  chose  the  Conservatory 
school.  There,  that  broad  and  impulsive  spirit  in  its 
independence  ran  counter  to  classic  paths,  to  rigid 
processes ;  there,  that  exceptional  nature,  that 
potent  personality,  which  was  already  a  marked  one, 
that  vivid  intuition — ^which  already  went  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  traditional  holy  of  holies — had  little 
chance  of  appreciation.  Moreover,  Delsarte  was 
timid ;  his  genius  had  not  yet  acquired  the  audacity 
which  dares.  Competition  followed  competition; 
would  he  win  a  prize?  In  answer  to  this  question 
which  he  had  asked  himself  throughout  the  year,  he 


delsarte's  beginnings.  281 

saw  mediocrity  crowned ;  his  soul  of  light  and  fire 
was  forced  to  bow  before  will-o'-the-wisps,  most  of 
whom  were  soon  extinguished  in  merited  oblivion. 

The  artist's  regret  was  the  more  acute  because  he 
did  not  yet  know  the  course  of  human  life.  He  had 
not  proved  the  strange  fatality  —  which  seeks  to 
make  itself  a  law  —  that,  in  general,  success  falls 
to  the  lot  of  those  who  servilely  follow  in  the  ruts 
of  routine.  Happy  are  fhe  worshippers  of  art  and 
poetry,  those  who  have  devoted  their  lives  to  this 
sacred  cult,  if  ambition  and  intrigue  —  with  their 
attendant  train  of  flattery,  party  rings,  and  illegal 
speculation  —  do  not  invade  the  stage  whence  the 
palms  and  the  crowns  are  awarded ! 

Delsarte  must  also  have  learned  in  the  course  of 
his  life,  that  genius,  a  rare  exception,  is  more  rarely 
still  judged  by  its  peers ;  and  yet,  the  genius  of  this 
student  was  already  revealed  by  various  tokens ;  and 
for  his  consolation,  these  premonitory  symptoms 
were  noted  by  other  than  the  official  judges. 

After  one  of  these  scholastic  contests,  Delsarte 
withdrew  confused  and  heavy-hearted :  he  had  re- 
ceived but  one  vote  in  the  competition ;  and  even 
that  exception  roused  a  sort  of  cheer,  as  if  it  were 
given  to  some  contemptible  competitor. 

The  defeated  youth  walked  slowly  away,  drag- 
ging at  his  heels  all  the  sorrow  of  his  discom- 
fiture, when  two  persons  approached  him ;  one  was 
the  famous  Marie  Malibran,  the  other  the  brilliant 
tenor,  Adolph  Nourrit, 


282  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

"  Courage  !  "  said  the  prima  donna,  pressing  his 
hand.  *'  I  enjoyed  hearing,  you  very  much.  You 
will  be  a  great  artist !  " 

"  My  friend,"  added  Nourrit,  "  it  was  I  who  cast 
my  vote  for  you :  to  my  mind,  you  are  an  incom- 
parable singer.  When  I  have  my  children  taught 
music,  you  shall  certainly  be  their  teacher." 

Delsarte  blessed  the  defeat  which  had  brought 
him  such  precious  compensations.  These  voices 
which  sounded  so  sweetly  in  his  ear,  were  soon  ex- 
tinguished by  death ;  but  they  vibrated  long  in  the 
heart  which  they  had  comforted.  The  artist  associ- 
ated their  dear  memory  with  every  success  which 
recalled  to  him  their  sympathetic  accents  and  their 
clear-sighted  prediction. 


CHAPTER  X. 
delsarte's  theatre  and  school. 

When  Delsarte  had  finished  his  studies,  he  en- 
tered the  world  unaided  and  alone;  disarmed  by 
the  hostihties  which  could  not  fail  to  await  him, 
by  his  very  superiority,  and  by  that  honesty  which 
refuses  to  lend  itself  to  certain  transactions. 

At  the  Opera  Comique,  where  he  was  engaged, 
he  did  not  succeed.  Exceptional  talents  require 
an  exceptional  public  who  can  understand  them  and 
make  them  popular  by  applauding  and  explaining 
them. 

And  yet  certain  people,  gifted  with  penetration, 
discovered  under  the  artistic  innovations  peculiar  to 
the  beginner,  that  indescribable  fascination  which 
hovers  round  the  heads  of  the  predestined  favorites 
of  art. 

Delsarte  could  not  long  confine  himself  to  the 
stage,  when  everything  connected  with  it  was  so  far 
from  sympathetic  to  him,  and  seemed  so  contrary 
to  the  true  object  of  dramatic  art.  The  theatre,  to 
his  mind,  should  be  a  school  of  morality ;  and  what 
did  he  see  ?  Authors  —  what  would  he  say  now-a- 
days?  —  absorbed  in  winning  the  applause  of  the 
masses,  rather  than  in  feeding  them  upon  whole- 
some food  or  in  preparing  an  antidote  for  vice  and 
evil  inclinations. 


284  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

Whatever  good  intentions  happened  to  be  mingled 
with  the  play  were  lost  in  the  details  of  the  action 
—  or  in  the  often  mischievous  interpretation  of  the 
actors.  With  his  wonderful  perspicacity,  Delsarte 
seemed  to  foresee  all  the  excesses  of  naturalism  in 
certain  forerunners  of  Adolphe  Belot  and  Emile 
Zola. 

On  the  other  hand,  his  comrades,  who  should 
have  attracted  him,  showed  themselves  to  be  envious 
and  malicious.  To  sum  it  all  up,  it  was  very  hard 
for  him  to  live  with  them.  Some  of  them  might 
please  him  by  their  simple  gaiety,  their  childlike 
ease,  their  lack  of  affectation,  and  their  amiability, 
but  they  were  far  from  satisfying  his  lofty  aspira- 
tions ! 

An  occupation  of  a  higher  order,  he  thought,  the 
elaboration  of  his  method,  demanded  his  thoughts. 
He  seemed  haunted  by  a  desire  to  produce  what  his 
spirit  had  conceived.  He  longed  fully  to  enjoy  that 
happiness  of  creation  that  arises  from  useful  dis- 
covery. He  aspired  to  say :  **  In  accomplishing  the 
task  which  I  set  myself,  I  have  also  done  much  for 
art  and  artists." 

Swayed  by  such  thoughts,  Francois  Delsarte  soon 
left  the  profession  of  actor  to  follow  that  of  teacher 
of  singing  and  elocution.  Then  he  found  himself 
in  his  element  and,  as  it  were,  at  the  centre  of  all  that 
attracted  him.  His  teaching  enabled  him  to  verify 
the  value  of  his  axioms  hourly,  in  the  order  of  facts 
and  to  confirm  the  truth  of  his  observations. 


DELSARTE'S  THEATRE  AND   SCHOOL.         285 

And  yet  he  had  not  attained  to  the  supreme  beati- 
tude. If  the  elect  of  plastic  and  practical  art  have  to 
contend  with  appraisers  of  every  degree,  inventors 
have  to  deal  with  enemies  who  make  up  in  stubborn 
resistance  what  they  lack  in  numbers,  and  oppose 
the  iron  will  of  a  rival  who  will  not  see  the  limit  of 
the  ne  plus  ultra  which  he  believes  himself  to  have 
reached  and  even  exceeded. 

In  every  station  of  life,  the  bearers  of  "  good 
news "  are  a  prey  to  the  tyranny  of  interests  and 
established  prejudices.  In  our  time,  this  persecution 
becomes  mockery  or  indifference.  Delsarte  did  not 
escape  this  debt  of  revelatory  genius.  Humble  in 
regard  to  art  and  science,  as  he  was  conscious  of  his 
strength  when  face  to  face  with  rivals  and  com- 
petitors, he  sometimes  felt  the  doubt  of  himself,  the 
sudden  weakness,  which  overtakes  great  minds  and 
great  hearts  in  the  accomplishment  of  their  mission. 

A  special  form  of  torture  attacked  our  young  in- 
novator. He  had  proved,  connected  and  classed  a 
number  of  psychological  facts  relating  to  the  theory 
of  art,  and  he  did  not  know  the  special  terms  which 
would  make  them  intelligible.  Like  those  phenome- 
nal children,  who  see  countless  relations  before  they 
possess  the  words  to  express  them,  he  had  discovered 
a  law,  created  a  science,  and  he  was  still  ignorant  of 
the  language  of  scientists.  If  he  tried  to  demon- 
strate the  bases  of  his  system  and  its  rational  evolu- 
tion in  ordinary  words,  the  ignorant  would  not  under- 
stand him  and  the  learned  would  not  deign  to  listen. 


286  ARNAUD    ON   DELS  ARTE. 

Sometimes  he  did  find  some  one  who  would  hear 
him,  question  him,  even  criticize  him,  and  who  would 
go  away  bearing  a  fragment  of  conversation  or  some 
few  notes  which  he  had  copied  to  turn  to  his  own 
profit. 

At  this  time,  there  came  one  day  to  Delsarte,  a 
pupil  who — by  a  rare  exception — had  been  through 
a  course  of  classical  studies. 

""Tell  me,  you  who  have  studied  (asked  the 
teacher  with  the  affability  of  a  great  man),  what  is 
metaphysics?" 

"Why  .  .  .  just  what  you  teach  us  !  "  said  the 
astonished  youth. 

Delsarte  was  enchanted  to  learn  that  he  was  only 
divided  by  words  from  a  science  which  had  seemed 
to  him  to  dwell  on  inaccessible  heights.  The  study 
of  technical  words,  when  intuition  had  provided  him 
with  important  ideas  and  new  perceptions,  was 
child's  play  to  him ;  in  a  short  time  he  could  teach 
his  philosophy  of  art  in  the  consecrated  expressions. 

His  lectures  grew  rapidly  in  the  Rue  Montholon. 
A  choice  public  soon  assembled  to  hear  them, 
drawn  thither  by  the  admiring  cry  of  the  first 
enthusiasts.  At  this  period,  the  talent  of  the  artist 
was  enhanced  by  the  lustre  of  youth.  Nature  had 
endowed  him  generously.  His  figure,  which  later 
assumed  rather  large  proportions,  was  tall  and 
elegant;  his  gestures  were  marked  by  grace  and 
nobleness ;  his  hair,  of  a  very  light  chestnut,  gave 
his  face  a  fair  softness ;  his  brown  eyes  relieved  this 


DELSARTE'S  THEATRE  AND   SCHOOL.         287 

expression  and  allowed  him  to  give  his  face — when 
the  interpretation  of  the  part  required  it — the  signs 
of  power  and  vigorous  passion.  A  full  length  por- 
trait painted  at  this  time  and  in  the  possession  of 
Madame  Delsarte,  gives  us  some  idea  of  his  grand 
face  and  form,  allowing  for  the  disadvantages  of 
every  translation.  Although,  in  singing,  the  organ 
was  often  impaired,  his  speaking-voice  was  most 
agreeable  in  tone,  correct  and   persuasive  in  accent. 

In  acting  various  parts,  Delsarte  transformed  him- 
self to  suit  the  character  that  he  represented.  He 
was  congratulated  on  bringing  to  life  for  our  age 
Achilles  and  Agamemnon,  as  Homer  painted  their 
types.  Yet,  I  think  he  was  sometimes  told  :  "  You 
paint  that  wretch  of  a  Don  Juan  a  little  too  faith- 
fully." Certainly,  art  would  never  make  that  com- 
plaint ! 

If  Delsarte  was  understood  in  that  part  of  his 
method  addressed  especially  to  the  ear  and  the  eye, 
it  was  not  so  with  the  theory  which  prepared  these 
striking  demonstrations. 

He  was  surrounded,  it  is  true,  by  an  assembly  of 
men  of  letters,  men  of  the  world,  and  amateur 
artists,  rather  than  by  scientists  and  philosophers. 
Many  in  the  audience  and  among  the  pupils  did  not 
pay  an  undivided  attention  to  the  scientific  part  of 
the  instruction.  Thus  the  first  notes  of  the  piano, 
announcing  that  the  time  for  action  had  come, 
always  caused  a  repressed  murmur  of  satisfaction 
and  pleasure. 


288  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

Sometimes,  after  the  lecture,  a  discussion  followed, 
for  Delsarte  often  left  room  for  a  controversy  which 
was  essentially  incorrect  and  caused  many  misunder- 
standings. This  was  because  the  innovator  some- 
times blended  with  the  clear  hues  of  his  art-princi- 
ples certain  tints  of  religious  mysticism  which  had 
no  necessary  relation  with  the  synthesis  of  his 
aesthetics. 

It  was  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  his  character, 
amiable  and  benevolent  as  it  was,  to  take  delight  in 
the  conflict  of  ideas.  If  he  saw,  in  the  course  of 
his  lecture,  a  man  whom  he  took  for  a  philosopher 
)r  anythmg  like  it,  he  never  failed  to  direct  some 
piquant  phrase,  some  aggressive  sentence  or  some 
irritating  thought  that  way — it  was  the  gauntlet 
which  he  flung  for  the  final  combat. 

Nor  were  women  exempt  from  these  humorous 
sallies. 

Although  the  master  loved  all  grandeur  —  the 
artistic  sense  with  which  he  was  so  largely  endowed 
inclining  him  that  way  —  he  had  democratic,  I  might 
almost  say  plebeian,  instincts.  The  poetry  of  simple, 
humble,  small  existences  sometimes  swayed  him. 

Thus,  if  among  his  hearers,  a  bright  violet  or  an 
audacious  scarlet  gown  annoyed  his  taste;  if  the 
reflection  of  a  ruby  or  a  diamond  vexed  his  eye,  he 
would  choose  that  instant  to  improvise  a  rustic  idyl 
or  to  intone  a  hymn  to  poverty. 

But  everything  ended  well ;  neither  the  philoso- 
pher whom  he  had  provoked,  nor  the  fine  lady  whom 


DELSARTE'S   THEATRE  AND    SCHOOL.  289 

he  had  reproved,  left  him  as  an  enemy.  His  nature 
with  its  varied  riches  had  quite  enough  feminine 
coquetry  to  regain  betimes  the  sympathy  which  he 
was  on  the  eve  of  losing.  A  gracious  word,  an 
affectionate  clasp  of  the  hand,  and  all  was  par- 
doned. 

The  opposition  manifested  outside  the  lecture- 
room  to  his  ideas  and  mode  of  instruction,  was  less 
courteous.  There  rival  schools  and  jealousies,  ill- 
disguised  under  an  affectation  of  disdain,  contended 
against  him.  He  was  accused  of  the  maddest  eccen- 
tricities; barbarous  processes  were  imputed  to  him, 
such  as  squeezing  the  chest  of  singers,  his  pupils, 
between  two  boards — the  reason  was  hard  to  under- 
stand. Others  claimed  that  before  Delsarte  accepted 
a  scholar,  he  required  a  profession  of  the  Catholic 
faith  and  an  examination  in  the  catechism. 

Those  were  the  days  when  the  author  of  **  Les 
Orientales,"  in  his  legend  of  the  "  Two  Archers," 
spoke  of 

"  That  holy  hermit  who  moved  stones 
By  the  sign  of  the  cross." 

But  if,  as  an  artist,  Delsarte  loved  legends  and  was 
inspired  by  faith,  as  a  professor  he  could  cut  short 
this  poetic  part  of  his  art,  at  the  point  where  science 
and  the  practical  side  of  his  teaching  began. 

The  reproach,  therefore,  carried  no  weight. 

Delsarte  was  amused  bv  these  exaggerated  accu- 
sations ;  in  another  order  of  criticisms,  it  was  agree- 
able to  him  to  hear  *'  that  he  sang  without  a  voice, 
19 


290  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

as  Ingres  painted  without  colors."  The  comparison 
pleased  him,  although  inexact. 

Yes,  I  say  inexact^  Delsarte  was  not  without  a 
voice;  he  had  one,  on  the  contrary,  of  great 
strength  and  range ;  of  moving  tone ;  eminently 
sympathetic ;  but  it  was  an  invalid  organ  and  sub- 
ject to  caprice.  He  was  not  always  master  of  it,  and 
this  caused  him  real  suffering. 

Let  me  give  you  the  history  of  his  voice  as 
Madame  Delsarte  herself  lately  told  it  to  me.  I 
must  go  back  to  his  early  days  of  study  and  debuts. 

Delsarte  entered  the  Conservatory  at  the  age  of 
fourteen.  Too  young  to  endure  the  fatigue  of  the 
regular  school-exercises,  his  voice  must  have  received 
an  injury.  When  the  singer  offered  his  services  at 
the  Opera  Comique  —  then  Salle  Vantadour  —  he 
was  told  that  his  voice  was  hollow,  that  it  had 
no  carrying  power.  This  was  perhaps  partly  the 
fault  of  the  building,  whose  acoustic  properties  were 
afterward  improved.  However,  thanks  to  the  flexi- 
bility which  his  voice  retained  and  his  perfect  vocal- 
ization, the  pretended  insufficiency  was  overlooked, 
and  the  young  tenor  was  admitted. 

His  mode  of  singing  pleased  the  skilled  public, 
and  the  special  abilities  of  this  strong  artistic  organ- 
ism —  as  I  have  already  observed  —  did  not  pass 
unnoted. 

A  dilettante,  to  whom  I  mentioned  Delsarte  long 
after  this  time,  said :  "  What  you  tell  me  does  not 
surprise  me.     I  heard  him  at  his  first  appearance, 


DELSARTE'S   THEATRE   AND    SCHOOL.  29 1 

and  he  has  Hngered  in  my  memory  as  an  artist  of 
the  greatest  promise.  He  was  more  than  a  singer ; 
he  had  that  nameless  quality,  which  is  not  taught  in 
any  school  and  which  marks  a  personality ;  a  tone 
of  which  nothing,  before  or  since,  has  given  me  the 
least  idea." 

The  tenor,  from  the  Comic  Opera,  went  to  the 
Ambigu  Theatre,  and  thence  to  the  Varietes,  where 
an  attempt  was  being  made  to  introduce  lyric  works. 
Francois  Delsarte's  dramatic  career  did  not,  how- 
ever, last  more  than  two  years.  During  these  vari- 
ous changes  —  I  cannot  give  the  exact  dates  —  this 
artist,  on  his  way  to  glory,  was  forced  to  gain  a  liv- 
ing by  the  least  aristocratic  of  occupations.  If  he 
did  not  go  so  far  as  Shakespeare  in  humility  of  pro- 
fession (the  English  poet  was  a  butcher's  boy),  he 
strangely  stooped  from  that  native  nobility — great 
capacity, —  which  must  yet  have  claimed,  in  his 
secret  soul,  its  imprescriptible  rights. 

If  this  was  one  more  suffering,  added  to  all  the 
rest,  it  had  its  good  side.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  source 
of  the  artist's  never  failing  kindness,  of  that  gracious 
reception  which  he  never  hesitated  to  bestow  on  any- 
one—  from  the  Princess  de  Chimay  and  many  other 
titled  lords  and  ladies,  down  to  Mother  Chorre,  the 
neighboring  milk-woman,  whom  he  held,  he  said, 
**  in  great  esteem  and  friendship." 

I  return  to  his  teaching.  His  lectures  were  given 
in  Rue  Lamartine  and  Rue  de  la  Pepiniere.  There 
was  always — aside  from  the  school  —  an  audience 


292  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

made  up  of  certain  never  failing  followers  and  of  a 
floating  population.  The  birds  of  passage  sometimes 
came  with  a  very  distinct  intention  to  criticise ;  but 
if  they  did  not  readily  understand  the  learned  deduc-" 
tions,  they  went  away  fascinated  by  what  the  pro- 
fessor had  shown  them  of  his  brilliant  changes  into 
every  type  of  the  repertory  which  he  held  up  as  a 
model.  Enthusiasm  soon  triumphed  over  prejudice. 
Envy,  alone,  persisted  in  hostility. 

These  meetings  were  genuine  artistic  feasts.  They 
were  held  at  night,  at  the  same  hour  as  the  theatres, 
and  no  play  was  preferable  to  them  in  the  eyes  of 
the  truly  initiated.  They  were  a  transcendent  mani- 
festation of  all  that  is  most  elevated,  which  art  can 
produce. 

Here  is  an  extract  from  a  newspaper,  which  I  find 
among  the  notes  sent  me : 

"I  heard  him  repeat,  one  evening,  'Iphigenias 
Dream,'  at  the  request  of  his  audience.  All  were 
held  trembling,  breathless  by  that  worn  and  yet  sov- 
ereign voice.  We  were  amazed  to  find  ourselves 
yielding  to  such  a  spell ;  there  was  no  splendor  and 
no  theatric  illusion.  IpJiigenia  v/as  a  teacher  in  a 
black  frock  coat ;  the  orchestra  was  a  piano  strik- 
ing, here  and  there,  an  unexpected  modulation;  this 
was  all  the  illusion  —  and  the  hall  was  silent,  every 
heart  throbbed,  tears  flowed  from  every  eye.  And 
then,  when  the  tale  was  told,  cries  of  enthusiasm 
arose,  as  if  Iphigenia,  in  person,  had  told  us  her 
terrors." 


delsarte's  theatre  and  school.       293 

These  lines  are  signed  "  Laurentius."  I  am  very 
glad  to  come  across  them  just  as  I  am  giving  vent 
to  my  own  feelings.  I  also  find  that  Adolphe 
Gueroult,  in  his  paper,  the  *'  Press,"  calls  Delsarte 
the  matchless  artist,  and  recognizes  a  law  in  his 
aesthetic  discoveries.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  set 
down,  as  opportunity  offers,  a  string  of  testimonies 
no  less  flattering  and  no  less  sincere ;  but  I  hasten 
to  produce  these  specimens,  lest  the  suspicion  of 
infatuation  follow  me. 

How  was  it  that  amidst  such  warm  plaudits,  Del- 
sarte failed  to  win  that  popularity  which,  after  all,  is 
the  supreme  sanction?  It  must  be  acknowledged 
that  he  took  no  great  pains  to  gain  the  place  which 
was  his  due.  If  he  loved  glory  like  the  true  artist 
that  he  was,  "  he  never  tired  himself  in  its  pursuit." 
Perhaps  he  had  an  instinctive  feeling  that  it  would 
come  to  him  some  day  unsought. 

He  might,  in  this  regard,  be  reproached  for  the 
tardiness  of  his  successes ;  he  himself  made  diffi- 
culties and  obstacles  which  might  be  considered  as 
the  effects  of  extreme  pride. 

Halevy  once  suggested  his  singing  at  the  Tuil- 
leries  before  King  Louis  Philippe  and  his  family. 

"  I  only  sing  to  my  friends,"  replied  the  artist. 

**That  is  strange,"  said  the  author  of ''The  Jewess," 
"  Lablache  and  Duprez  go  whenever  they  are  asked." 

"  Delsarte  does  not." 

"  But  consider !  This  is  to  be  a  party  given  by 
the  Crown  Prince  to  his  father." 


294  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

This  last  consideration  touched  the  obstinate 
heart. 

"  Well !  I  will  go,"  he  said,  "  but  it  is  only  on 
three  conditions :  I  must  be  the  only  singer ;  I  am 
to  have  the  chorus  from  the  Opera  to  accompany 
me ;   and  I  am  not  to  be  paid." 

**  You  will  establish  a  dangerous  precedent.'^ 

"  Those  are  my  irrevocable  terms." 

All  were  granted. 

From  his  youth  up  Delsarte  manifested  this,  per- 
haps excessive,  contempt  for  money.  On  one  oc- 
casion it  was  quite  justifiable.  Father  Bambini  had 
taken  him  to  a  party  where  he  was  to  sing  on  very 
advantageous  terms.  The  scholar  was  treated  with 
deference ;  but  the  teacher  who  had  neither  a  fine 
face  nor  the  claims  of  youth  to  shield  him  against 
aristocratic  prejudice,  was  received  much  as  a 
servant  would  have  been  who  had  made  a  mistake 
in  the  door. 

The  young  singer  felt  the  blood  mantle  his  brow, 
and  his  heart  rebelled. 

"Take  your  hat  and  let  us  go!  "  he  said  to  his 
old  master. 

"But  why?"  replied  the  good  man.  He  had 
heeded  nothing  but  his  pupil's  success. 

Delsarte  dragged  him  away  in  spite  of  his  pro- 
tests, and  lost  by  his  abrupt  departure  the  profits 
of  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

DELS  ARTE' S    FAMILY. 

Delsarte  married,  in  1833,  Miss  Rosina  Andrien. 
The  young  husband  felt  a  high  esteem  for  his 
father-in-law  (primo  basso  cantante  at  the  Opera); 
but  we  must  not  suppose  that  this  consideration 
influenced  his  choice.  He  made  a  love  marriage 
such  as  one  makes  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  with 
such  a  nature  as  his.  Moreover,  reason  was  never 
in  closer  accord  with  love. 

Miss  Andrien  was  remarkably  beautiful.  She 
was  fifteen  ;  her  talent  as  a  pianist  had  already  won 
her  a  first  prize  at  the  Conservatory.  She  was  just 
the  companion,  wise  and  devoted,  to  counterbalance 
the  flights  of  imagination  and  the  momentary  trans- 
ports inherent  in  the  temperament  of  many  artists. 

I  pause,  fearing  to  wound  a  modesty  which  I 
know  to  be  very  sensitive :  the  living  cannot  bear 
praise  with  the  indifference  of  the  dead ;  but  I 
must  be  allowed  to  insist  upon  the  valuable  assist- 
ance which  the  young  wife  lent  her  husband  in  his 
professional  duties;  this  is  a  special  part  of  my 
subject. 

Mme.  Delsarte  started  with  a  genuine  talent.  The 
situation  in  which  she  was  placed,  soon  made  her  a 
perfect  accompanist.  Never  was  there  more  per- 
fect harmony  between  singer  and  player.    Amid  the 


296         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

incessant  interruptions  necessary  to  a  lesson,  the 
piano  never  lagged  a  second  either  in  stopping  or 
in  going  on  again.  The  note  fell  promptly,  identi- 
cal with  the  first  note  of  the  piece  under  study.  To 
attain  to  this  obedient  precision,  one  must  possess 
indomitable  patience,  must  be  willing  to  be  utterly 
effaced.  Delsarte  appreciated  this  self-denial  in 
proportion  to  the  merit  of  her  who  practiced  it. 

In  everything  that  concerned  him,  he  relied 
especially  upon  the  opinion  of  his  accompanist;  he 
felt  her  to  be  an  abler  and  more  serious  judge  than 
the  most  of  those  around  him.  But  —  with  the  shy 
reserve  of  merit  unacknowledged  even  to  itself, — 
the  young  woman  shrank  from  expressing  her  im- 
pressions. If  I  may  judge  by  the  anecdote  which 
follows,  the  artist  was  at  times  distressed  by  this. 

One  day  Delsarte,  granting  one  of  those  favors 
of  which  he  was  never  lavish,  consented  to  sing  a 
composition  of  which  he  was  particularly  fond,  to  a 
few  friends.  It  was  the  air  from  M^hul's  "  Joseph :  '* 
"Vainly  doth  Pharaoh     ..." 

Mme.  Delsarte,  always  ready  at  the  first  call,  took 
her  seat  at  the  piano. 

The  master  was  in  the  mood  —  that  is,  in  full  pos- 
session of  all  his  powers.  His  pathos  was  heart- 
rending. 

"You  won  a  great  triumph,"  I  said  to  him ;  "I 
saw  tears  in  Mme.  Delsarte's  eyes." 

*'  My  wife's  eyes,"  he  cried  as  if  struck  by  sur- 
prise, •*  are  you  quite  sure?  " 


delsarte's  family.  297 

"  Perfectly,"  I  replied. 

He  seemed  greatly  pleased.  Putting  aside  all 
other  feeling,  it  was  no  slight  triumph  to  move  to 
such  a  point  one  who  assisted  at  and  sat  through  his 
daily  lessons  for  hours  at  a  time. 

A  few  years  sufficed  to  form  a  family  around  this 
very  young  couple.  It  was  soon  a  charming  acces- 
sory to  see  children  fluttering  about  the  house ; 
slipping  in  among  the  scholars ;  showing  a  furtive 
head — dark  or  light — at  one  of  the  doors  of  the  lec- 
ture-room. Let  me  recall  their  names :  The  eldest 
were  Henri,  Gustave,  Adrien,  Xavier,  Marie;  then 
came  after  a  long  interval,  Andre  and  Madeleine. 

Delsarte  loved  them  madly;  for  their  future  he 
dreamed  all  the  dreams  of  the  Arabian  Nights- 
Meantime,  he  played  with  them  so  happily  that  he 
seemed  to  take  a  personal  delight  in  it. 

He  gave  them  all  the  joys  of  this  life  that  were 
within  his  reach,  and  it  was  well  that  he  did  so  ! 
Alas  !  of  the  dreams  of  glory  cherished  for  these 
beloved  beings,  some  few  were  realized,  but  many 
faded  promptly  with  the  existence  of  those  who 
called  them  forth. 

But  we  must  not  anticipate.  At  the  time  of 
which  I  speak  the  children  were  growing  and  devel- 
oping, each  according  to  its  nature,  in  full  freedom. 
Those  who  felt  a  vocation  seized  on  the  wing — 
rather  than  they  received  from  irregular  lessons — 
some  fragments  of  that  great  art  which  was  taught 
in  the  school. 


298  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTfi. 

Marie  learned  while  very  young  to  reproduce  with 
marvelous  skill  what  were  called  the  attitudes  and 
the  physiognomic  changes.  Madeleine  delighted  in 
making  caricatures  which  showed  great  talent.  The 
features  of  certain  pupils  and  frequenters  of  the 
lectures  were  plainly  recognizable  in  these  sketches 
made  by  a  childish  hand. 

Gustave  was  a  child  of  an  open  face  and  broad 
shoulders.     One  incident  will  show  his  originality. 

A  strange  lady  came  to  the  master's  house  one 
day  either  to  ask  a  hearing  or  offer  a  pupil.  She  met 
this  charming  boy. 

*'  M.  Delsarte?  "  she  asked. 

"I  am  he,  madam!"  replied  Gustave  without 
flinching. 

"  Very  good,"  said  his  questioner,  laughing,  "  but 
I  wish  to  speak  to  your  father." 

This  same  Gustave  who,  to  a  certain  degree, 
followed  in  his  father's  footsteps,  was  struck  down 
a  few  years  after  him,  at  the  age  of  forty-two. 

What  a  striking  application  of  Victor  Hugo's 
lines : 

**  And  both  are  dead Oh  Lord,  all  powerful  is  thy  right  hand !  " 

Gustave's  career  seemed  to  open  readily  and 
smoothly.  Not  that  he  could  approach  his  father 
from  a  dramatic  point  of  view ;  he  had  not  his  abso- 
lute synthesis  of  talents,  and  his  figure  was  not  suited 
tothetheatre;  as  asinger,  his  voice  was  weak,  but  what 
a  charm  and  what  a  style  he  had  !    Although  his  voice 


delsarte's  family.  299 

was  not  adapted  to  every  part,  although  he  had  not 
that  range  of  the  vocal  scale  which  permits  one  to  at- 
tack any  and  every  composition,  still,  its  sympathetic, 
tender  and  penetrating  quality  did  ample  justice  to 
all  that  is  most  exquisite  in  romance.  When  you 
had  once  heard  that  voice,  guided  by  the  force  of 
his  father's  grand  method,  you  never  forgot  its  sin- 
cerity and  melancholy ;  it  haunted  you  and  left  you 
impatient  to  hear  it  again. 

As  a  concert-singer  and  teacher,  Gustave  Delsarte 
might  have  won  high  rank.  An  ill-assorted  marriage 
and  his  misanthropic  character  prevented.  As  a 
composer,  he  left  some  few  songs,  masses  and  relig- 
ious fragments  which  are  not  without  merit.  When 
he  was  to  produce  any  of  his  sacred  works,  the  com- 
poser-singer never  took  a  part;  but  he  would  lead 
the  orchestra.  If  he  came  to  a  rehearsal  and  the  per- 
formers appeared  weak,  a  holy  wrath  would  seize 
upon  Gustave.  Then  he  flung  a  firm,  incisive,  accent- 
uated note  into  the  midst  of  the  choir,  vivid  as  a  spark 
bursting  from  a  fire  covered  with  ashes.  He  would 
accompany  it  with  a  glance  which  seemed  to  flash 
from  his  father's  eye ;  at  such  moments,  he  resembled 
him ;  but  this  transformation  never  lasted  more  than 
a  second ;  the  fictitious  power  disappeared  as  all 
which  was  Gustave  Delsarte  was  doomed  to  dis- 
appear. , 

At  least,  his  father  did  not  live  to  mourn  his  loss. 
And  yet  he  knew  that  worst  of  heart-suffering :  the 
loss  of   a   beloved   child.     Alas !     In    that    radiant 


300      ■  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

family,  whose  mirth,  fresh  faces  and  luxuriant  health 
seemed  to  defy  death,  the  implacable  foe  had  already 
twice  swept  his  scythe. 

The  first  to  go  was  Andre,  one  of  the  latest  born. 
He  was  at  the  age  when  the  child  leaves  no  lasting 
memories  behind ;  but  we  know  the  grace  of  inno- 
cence, the  privilege  of  impeccability  by  which 
infancy  atones  for  the  lack  of  acquirements.  Then 
these  little  creatures  have  the  mysterious  entrancing 
smiles,  which  mothers  understand  and  adore  —  and 
Delsarte  loved  his  children  with  a  mother's  heart. 

Time  lessens  such  pangs ;  but  when  a  fresh  sor- 
row re-opened  the  era  of  calamity,  it  seems  as  if  the 
sad  events  trod  upon  each  other's  heels  and  the 
interval  between  seems  to  have  been  but  one  unmiti- 
gated agony. 

The  loss  undergone  in  1863  was  even  greater. 
Xavier  Delsarte  was  a  tall,  handsome  young  man. 
The  master  was  content  with  the  profit  which  his 
son  had  derived  from  his  tuition.  He  was  success- 
ful as  a  singer  and  elocutionist.  He  was  attacked  by 
cholera  during  an  epidemic.  The  night  before  he 
had  taken  several  glasses  of  iced  orgeat  in  the 
open  air. 

Xavier  lived  in  the  Rue  des  Batailles  with  his 
family,  but  not  in  the  same  apartment.  This  fact 
was  fatal.  Instead  of  calling  help  in  the  first  stages 
—  unwilling  to  disturb  his  relatives  —  the  invalid 
wandered  down  stairs  during  the  night,  and  into  the 
court-yard.     There  he  drank  water  from  the  pump. 


DELSARTE'S    FAMILY.  3OI 

I  can  Still  recall  the  unhappy  father's  story  of  that 
cruel  moment. 

"  It  was  scarcely  day.  I  was  waked  by  that  un- 
expected, fatal  ringing  of  the  bell,  which,  at  such  an 
hour,  always  bodes  misfortune.  The  maid  heard  it 
also,  and  opened  the  door.  She  uttered  a  cry  of 
alarm.  Almost  instantly,  my  poor  boy  stood  at  my 
chamber  door.  He  leaned  against  the  frame  of  the 
door,  his  strength  not  allowing  him  to  advance. 
From  the  change  in  his  features,  I  understood  all — 
he  was  hopelessly  lost !  " 

Delsarte  was  sensitive  and  of  a  very  loving  nature ; 
but  he  was  endowed  with  great  strength.  Much 
absorbed,  moreover,  in  his  profession,  his  studies,  his 
innovations,  he  often  found  in  them  a  counterpoise 
to  these  rude  blows  of  fate.  So  when  the  thoughts 
of  his  friends  recur  to  these  disasters,  they  feel  that 
their  greatest  sympathy  and  commiseration  are  due 
to  the  mother  who  three  times  underwent  this  su- 
preme martyrdom. 

Two  names  remain  to  be  mentioned  in  this  family 
where  artistic  callings  seemed  a  matter  of  course.  The 
concerts  of  Madame  Theresa  Wartel  —  sister  of 
Madame  Delsarte  —  brought  together  the  elite  of 
Parisian  virtuosi,  and  the  brilliant  pianist  took  her 
part  in  the  quatuors  in  which  Sauzay,  Allard,  Franc- 
homme  and  other  celebrities  of  the  period  figured. 

George  Bizet — author  of  the  opera  of  **  Carmen  " 
—  prematurely  snatched  from  the  arts,  was  the 
nephew   of  Francois   Delsarte.      This  young   man 


302  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

taught  himself  Sanscrit  unaided;    he  inspired  the 
greatest  hopes. 

Wartel,  who  gave  Christine  Nilsson  her  musical 
education,  was  not  of  the  same  blood,  but  we  find 
certain  points  in  his  method  which  recall  the  pro- 
cesses of  Delsarte's  school. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
delsarte's  religion. 

I  now  confront  an  important  and  very  interesting 
subject;  but  one  which  is  more  difficult  to  handle 
than  the  most  prickly  briers.  There  has  been 
a  confusion,  in  regard  to  Delsarte,  of  two  very  dis- 
tinct things :  his  practical  devotion  and  his  philoso- 
phy of  art,  which  does  indeed  assume  a  religious 
character.  He  himself  helped  on  this  confusion. 
I  am  desirous  of  doing  my  best  to  put  an  end  to  it. 
I  hope  that,  truth  and  sincerity  aiding,  I  shall  not 
find  the  task  too  great  for  me. 

I  must  first  grapple  with  those  ill-informed  per- 
sons who  have  denied  the  master  his  high  intellectual 
faculties,  and  even  his  scientific  discoveries,  for  the 
sole  reason  of  the  mystical  side  of  his  beliefs.  I 
must  also  expose  the  error  of  those  who  supposed 
that  to  this  mysticism  were  attributable  the  miracles 
accomplished  by  Delsarte  in  his  career  as  artist  and 
scholar. 

I  was  the  better  able  to  understand  these  two 
opposing  elements — religiousness  and  strength  of 
understanding — because,  if  I  gave  in  my  entire  adhe- 
sion to  the  innovator  in  the  arts,  he  did  not  find  me 
equally  docile  in  what  concerned  the  theosophic 
part  of  his  doctrine.  Hence,  discussions  which 
illustrated  the  subject.  I  speak  in  presence  of  his 
memory  as  I  did  before  him,  with  perfect  frankness 


304  ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

and  simplicity  of  heart;  taking  care  not  to  offend 
the  objects  of  his  veneration,  but  examining  without 
regard  to  his  memory,  as  without  prejudice,  the 
influence  which  his  convictions  exerted  upon  his 
intellectual  conceptions,  his  ideas,  his  character,  his 
talent  —  in  a  word,  his  life,  in  so  far  as  it  may  con- 
cern a  sketch  which  lays  no  claim  to  be  a  complete 
biography. 

Now,  it  is  from  the  point  of  view  of  art  itself  that 
I  ask  the  following  questions :  Was  Delsarte  a  devout 
Catholic?     Was  he  orthodox? 

Devout?  He  gloried  in  it,  he  insisted  on  it;  I 
will  not  say  that  he  affected  minute  daily  acts  of 
devotion,  for  that  word  would  not  accord  with  the 
spontaneity  of  his  nature;  but  he  accented  his 
demonstrations,  he  spoke  constantly  of  his  religion. 
Without  any  intention  to  wrong  the  serious  side  of 
his  religious  feelings,  it  seemed  to  be  a  bravado  put 
on  for  the  incredulous,  a  toy  which  he  converted  into 
a  weapon. 

Orthodox?  He  made  it  his  boast,  and  he  cer- 
tainly intended  to  be  so ;  he  loved,  in  many  circum- 
stances, to  show  his  humility  of  heart.  His  faith,  he 
used  to  say,  "  was  the  charcoal-burner's  faith." 

And  yet,  the  charcoal-burner  would  have  been 
strangely  puzzled  if  he  had  had  to  sustain  the  cease- 
less contests  which  the  artist  accepted  or  provoked 
from  philosophers  and  free-thinkers ;  and,  perhaps, 
no  less  frequently,  from  his  fellow-religionists,  and 
the  priests  themselves* 


DELSARTE'S    RELIGION.  305 

With  the  former,  it  was  a  mere  question  of  dog- 
matic forms  or  of  the  necessity  for  some  form  of 
rehgion;  with  the  latter,  he  entered  upon  a  more 
pecuHarly  theological  order  of  ideas,  such  as  the 
attributes  proper  to  each  of  the  three  divine  persons, 
and  other  mystical  subjects. 

Here,  as  elsewhere,  Delsarte  brought  to  bear  his 
personality,  his  stamp,  his  breadth  of  comprehension. 

I  once  asked  him  what  some  called  Dominations 
might  represent,  in  the  celestial  classification?  He 
replied :  *'  If  any  one  or  anything  forces  itself  upon 
our  mind,  takes  active  possession  of  our  soul,  do 
we  not  feel  that  we  are  under  a  certain  domina- 
tion?" 

He  gave  me  several  other  explanations  touching 
the  angelic  hierarchy.  I  considered  them  very 
poetic,  very  ingenious — but  were  they  also  orthodox  ? 
I  am  not  competent  to  judge. 

It  was  impossible  to  say  at  the  first  glance,  how 
the  influence  of  this  theosophy  made  itself  felt  in 
this  sensitive  character,  full  as  it  was  of  surprises. 
Delsarte  was  born  good,  generous,  above  the  petty 
tendencies  which  deform  and  degrade  the  human 
type.  On  these  diverse  points,  religious  faith  could 
scarcely  show  its  effect ;  but  he  also  declared  himself 
to  be  irritable  and  violent — he  confessed  to  a  danger- 
ous fickleness — still,  he  would  readily  have  slandered 
himself  in  the  interests  of  his  faith. 

Whatever  the  cause  of  this  acquired  serenity, 
Delsarte  did  not  always  refuse  to  satisfy  his  native 
20 


306  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

impulses.  I  have  already  alluded  to  cases  in  which 
these  returns  to  impetuous  vivacity  Occurred,  and  how 
he  rose  above  these  relapses.  Whether  his  peaceful 
spirit  arose  from  rehgious  feeling,  or  whether  it  was 
the  result  of  moral  strength,  it  breathed  the  spirit 
of  the  gospel ;  but  it  must  also  be  confessed  that  our 
artist  mingled  with  it  much  worldly  grace.  What 
matters  it?  Uncertainty  has  no  inconveniences  in 
such  a  matter. 

It  was  particularly  on  the  occasion  of  those 
sudden  fits  of  passion  to  which  the  human  con- 
science does  not  always  attach  due  weight,  that  Del- 
sarte  laid  great  stress  upon  supernatural  intervention. 

Oh !  what  would  he  have  done  without  that 
powerful  aid,  with  his  lively  sensibilities  —  with  his 
too  loving  heart? 

I  have  no  opinion  to  offer  in  regard  to  the  shield 
which  efficacious  grace  and  the  palladium  of  the 
faith  may  form  for  dangerous  tendencies ;  for 
Catholics,  that  is  a  matter  for  the  casuist  or  the 
confessor  to  decide ;  but,  as  far  as  Delsarte  is  con- 
cerned, had  he  beaten  down  Satan  in  a  way  to 
rouse  the  jealousy  of  St.  Michael,  had  he  made  the 
heathen  Socrates  give  precedence  to  him  in  patience, 
wisdom  and  firmness,  I  should  regard  that  victory 
as  the  triumph  of  the  sacred  principles  of  the 
eternal  morality,  of  that  which  sums  up,  in  a  single 
group,  all  the  supreme  precepts  of  all  religions  and 
all  philosophies,  rather  than  as  a  result  of  external 
practices. 


DELSARTE'S   RELIGION.  307 

It  is  by  placing  myself  at  this  culminating  point, 
that  I  have  succeeded  in  explaining  to  my  own  sat- 
isfaction the  true  stimulus  of  the  artist-thinker,  in 
spite  of  all  appearances  and  all  contradictions ;  and 
everything  leads  me  to  believe  that  the  elevation 
of  his  mind  and  the  inspiration  of  the  art  which  he 
taught  and  practiced,  would  have  sufficed,  in  equal 
proportion  with  his  faith,  **  to  deliver  him  from 
evil." 

How  could  a  man  glide   into  the  lower  walks  of  ♦ 
life,  whose  mission   it  was  to   set  forth   the  types 
of  moral    beauty  by  opposing   them,    to    use   his 
phrase,   "  to  the  hideousnesses  of  vice?  " 

Now,  talent  and  faith  meet  face  to  face.  We  are 
to  consider  to  what  extent  the  one  was  dependent 
upon  the  other;  and  whether,  in  reality,  the  artist 
whom  so  many  voices  proclaimed  "  incomparable  " 
owed  his  vast  superiority  to  acts  of  religious  devo- 
tion, to  his  adhesion  to  the  dogmas  of  the  church. 

It  is  not  arbitrarily  that  a  transcendent  intellect 
pointed  out  a  difference  between  religion  and  reli- 
gions :  every  mind  devoted  to  philosophy  must 
needs  reach  this  distinction. 

I  shall  keep  strictly  within  the  limits  of  that 
which  concerns  art,  in  a  question  so  vast  and  of 
such  great  importance. 

Religion  is  that  need  which  all  generations  of  men 
have  felt  for  establishing  a  relationship  between 
man  and  the  supreme  power  or  powers  whence  man 
supposes  he  proceeded.    To   some  it  is  an  outburst 


308  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

of  gratitude  and  homage ;  to  others,  an  instinct 
of  terror  which  makes  them  fall  prostrate  before  an 
unknown  being  upon  whom  they  feel  themselves 
dependent,  although  they  cannot  know  him,  still 
less  define  him. 

Religio7is  are  all  which  men  have  established  in 
answer  to  those  aspirations  of  the  conscience,  to 
satisfy  that  intuition  which  forces  itself  upon  our 
mind  so  long  as  sophistry  has  not  warped  it.  It 
*  follows  from  this,  that  religions  vary,  are  changed, 
and  may  be  falsified  until  the  primitive  meaning  is 
lost.  But  whatever  may  be  the  faith  and  the  rites 
of  rehgions  —  whether  fanaticism  disfigure  them  or 
fetichism  make  a  caricature  of  them,  whether  politi- 
cians use  them  as  an  ally,  or  the  traces  of  the  apos- 
tolate  fade  beneath  the  materialism  of  speculation, — 
there  will  always  remain  at  the  bottom,  religion  : 
that  is,  the  thought  which  keeps  such  or  such  a  so- 
ciety alive  for  a  variable  time,  and  which,  in  periods 
of  transition,  seeks  refuge  in  human  consciences 
awaiting  a  fresh  social  upward  flight. 

Well !  it  was  not  the  external  part  of  his  belief 
which  inspired  Delsarte,  when — to  use  the  expres- 
sion of  the  poet  Reboul — "  he  showed  himself  like 
unto  a  god  ! "  It  was  not  the  long  rosary  with  its  large 
beads  which  often  dangled  at  his  side,  that  gave  him 
the  secret  of  heart- tortures  and  soul-aspirations ! 
The  charcoal-burner's  faith  would  never  have  taught 
him  that  captivating  grace,  that  supreme  elegance  of 
gesture  and  attitude,  which   made  him   matchless. 


DELSARTE  S    RELIGION.  309 

Nor  did  theology  and  dogma  teach  him  the  moving 
effects  which  made  people  declare  that  he  performed 
miracles,  and  led  several  writers  (Henry  de  Riancey, 
Hervet)  to  say:  "That  man  is  not  an  artist,  he 
is  art  itself!  "  And  Fiorentino,  a  critic  usually 
severe  and  exacting,  wrote :  "  This  master's  senti- 
ment is  so  true,  his  style  so  lofty,  his  passion  so  pro- 
found, that  there  is  nothing  in  art  so  beautiful  or  so 
perfect ! " 

Profound  passion,  lofty  style  y  art  itself y  these  are  not  • 
learned  from  any  catechism.  That  chosen  organism 
bore  within  its  own  breast  the  fountains  of  beauty. 
An  artist,  he  derived  thence  an  inward  illumination, 
and,  as  it  were,  a  clear  vision  of  the  Ideal.  If  religion 
was  blended  with  it,  it  was  that  which  speaks  directly 
to  the  heart  of  all  beings  endowed  with  poetry,  to 
those  who  are  capable  of  vowing  their  love  to  the 
worship  of  sublime  things. 

What  I  have  just  said  will  become  more  compre- 
hensible if  I  apply  to  Delsarte  those  more  especially 
Christian  words  :    The  spirit  and  the  letter. 

Yes,  in  him  there  was  the  spiritual  man  and  the 
literal  man ;  and  if  either  compromised  the  other,  it 
was  not  in  the  eyes  of  persons  who  attended,  regularly 
enough  to  understand  them,  the  lectures  and  lessons 
of  the  brilliant  professor. 

This  I  have  already  said,  and  I  shall  dwell  upon 
this  point,  hoping  to  establish  some  harmony  be- 
tween those  who  taxed  Delsarte  with  madness  on 
account  of  his  positivism  in  the  matter  of  faith,  and 


3IO  'ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

those  who  strove  to  connect  with  his  devotional 
habits  everything  exceptional  which  that  great  figure 
realized  in  his  passage  through  this  world. 

In  fact,  it  is  only  by  separating  the  Delsarte  of 
the  spirit  from  him  of  the  letter,  that  we  can  form 
any  true  idea  of  him. 

And  the  letter,  once  again — was  it  not  art  and 
poetry  that  made  worship  so  dear  to  him?  The 
shadowy  light  of  the  churches,  the  stern  majesty  of 
the  vaulted  roof,  contrasting  with  the  radiant  circle 
of  light  within  which  reposed  the  sacred  wafer, — all 
this  pomp,  of  heathen  origin,  warmed  for  him  the 
severe  simplicity  and  cold  austerity  of  Christian  sen- 
timent; the  chants  and  prayers  uttered  in  common 
also  stimulated  the  fervid  impulses  of  his  heart. 

The  spirit  of  proselytism  took  possession  of  him 
later  in  life.  It  was  controversy  under  a  new  form, 
more  attractive  and  more  distracting.  There  was 
always  some  soul  within  reach  to  be  won  to  the 
faith ;  some  rebellious  spirit  to  bend  to  the  yoke  of 
the  official  church, —  proceeding,  under  due  observ- 
ance of  ostensible  forms,  from  the  letter !  Neophytes 
were  very  ready  to  listen.  After  all,  it  pledged 
them  to  nothing,  and  they  talked  of  other  things 
often  enough  to  prevent  the  conversation  from 
becoming  too  much  of  a  sermon.  Then,  certain 
favors  ' — all  of  a  spiritual  nature — were  attached 
to  this  situation :  a  place  nearer  the  master  during 
lectures,  a  more  affectionate  greeting,  a  sweeter 
smile. 


delsarte's  religion.  311 

These  attempts  more  than  once  resulted  in  disap- 
pointment to  Delsarte.  I  will  not  enumerate  them 
all.  Often  he  was  heard  with  increasing  interest,  it 
seemed  as  if  resistance  must  yield,  and  that  he  might 
speedily  plant  his  flag  "  in  the  salutary  waters  of 
grace,"  but  at  that  very  moment  his  opponent 
would  become  more  refractory  and  more  stubborn 
than  ever. 

Once,  he  had  great  hopes.  Several  young  people 
seemed  decided  to  etiter  into  the  paths  of  virtue. 
The  master  was  radiant.  **  Take  heed,"  said  skeptic 
prudence,  "  perhaps  it  is  only  a  means  of  stimulating 
your  zeal,  of  profiting  better  by  your  disinterested- 
ness." 

He  soon  acknowledged  the  truth  of  these  predic- 
tions ;   he  confessed  it  in  his  moments  of  candor. 

One  of  these  feigned  converts,  especially,  scan- 
dalized him.     The  story  deserves  repetition : 

The  church  of  the  Petits-Peres  had  ordered  the 
wax  figure  of  a  freshly  canonized  saint,  from  Rome. 
Delsarte  mentioned  it  to  the  school,  and  several 
pupils  went  to  see  it. 

"Ah,  sir ! "  cried  young  D.  on  his  return,  **  now, 
indeed,  I  am  a  Catholic !  How  lovely  she  is,  how 
fresh  and  fair  after  lying  underground  so  long !  " 

*' Unhappy  fellow !"  said  the  disappointed  artist, 
"  he  takes  the  image  for  the  reality,  and  the  beauty 
of  a  waxen  St.  Philomena  has  converted  him." 

The  young  man  had  heard  that  the  preservation 
of  the  flesh,  after  a  hundred  years'  burial,  counted 


312  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

for  much  in  canonization,  if  it  did  not  suffice  to  jus- 
tify it ;  and  as  the  place  where  they  had  deposited 
the  sacred  image  was  dark,  D.  had  taken  for  Hfe 
itself  the  pink  and  white  complexion  common  to 
such  figures  before  time  has  yellowed  them. 

Delsarte  ended  by  being  amused  at  his  credulity; 
he  laughed  readily  and  was  not  fond  of  sulking. 
Nor  must  we  forget  that  this  preeminent  tragedian 
was  a  perfect  comedian,  and  that  this  fact  entitled 
him  to  true  enjoyment  of  the  humorous  side  of  life. 
Have  I  not  somewhere  read  :  '*  Beware  of  those  who 
never  laugh !  " 

Delsarte's  piety  —  I  speak  of  that  of  the  letter  — 
was  seldom  morose.  It  did  not  forbid  juvenile  ca- 
prices ;   it  overlooked  venial  sins. 

One  Sunday  he  took  his  scholars  to  Nanterre, 
some  to  perform,  others  to  hear,  a  mass  of  his  own 
composition.  A  few  friends  joined  the  party.  The 
mass  over,  they  wandered  into  the  country  in  groups. 
Some  walked  ;  some  sat  upon  the  grassy  turf.  The 
air  was  pleasant,  the  conversation  animated ;  time 
passed  quickly. 

Suddenly  the  vesper  bell  was  heard.  Some  one 
drew  Delsarte's  attention  to  it — not  without  a  tiny 
grain  of  malice. 

"  Master,  what  a  pity — you  must  leave  us." 

He  made  no  answer. 

When  the  second  summons  sounded,  the  same 
voice  continued : 

"There's  no  help  for  it;   for  us  poor  sinners,  it's 


delsarte's  religion.  313 

no  matter !  But  you,  master,  you  cannot  miss  the 
mass !  " 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  head  and  considered. 

*'Bah !"  he  cried  boldly,  **  I'll  send  my  children." 

Let  me  give  another  trait  in  illustration  of  the 
nature  which  from  time  to  time  pierced  through  and 
rent  the  flimsy  fabric  of  his  opinions.  This  anecdote 
is  a  political  one. 

Despite  the  precedent  of  an  ultra  democratic 
grandfather,  and  all  his  plebeian  tendencies  as  a  phi- 
lanthropist and  a  Christian,  his  Catholic  friends  had 
inclined  him  toward  monarchical  ideas — although  he 
never  actually  sided  with  the  militant  portion  of  the 
party. 

On  one  occasion,  it  happened  that  the  two  wings 
of  this  politico-religious  fusion  disagreed.  As  at 
Nanterre,  Delsarte  acted  independently,  and  on  this 
occasion  politics  were  the  victim.  It  fell  out  as 
follows : 

A  claimant  of  the  throne  of  France,  still  young, 
finding  himself  in  the  Eternal  City,  had  not,  to  all 
appearance,  fulfilled  his  duties  to  the  Vatican 
promptly. 

The  first  time  that  Delsarte  encountered  certain 
of  those  zealous  legitimists,  who  are  said  to  be 
"  more  royalist  than  the  king,"  he  launched  this 
apostrophe  at  their  heads  : 

**  I  hear  that  jyotir  yot^ng-  man  was  in  no  haste  to 
pay  his  respects  to  His  Holiness." 

Thus,  always  free — even  when  he  seemed  to  have 


314  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

forged  chains  for  himself — he  obeyed  his  impulse 
without  counting  the  cost.  Never  mind  !  This 
childish  outburst  must  have  gladdened  the  manes  of 
the  ancestor  who  connected  the  syllables  in  the 
patronymic  name  of  Delsarte ! 

I  hope  I  shall  not  forget,  as  my  pen  moves  along, 
any  of  these  memories,  insignificant  to  many  minds, 
no  doubt,  but  serving  to  distinguish  this  figure  from 
the  vast  mass  of  creation.  If,  among  my  readers, 
some  may  say  "  pass  on,"  others  will  enjoy  these 
trifles,  and  will  thank  me  for  writing  them. 

Thus,  Delsarte  was  always  pleased  to  think  he 
bore  the  name  of  Francois  in  memory  of  Francis 
of  Assisi — not  the  Spaniard  whom  we  know,  but  the 
great  saint  of  the  twelfth  century ;  he  who  "  ap- 
peased quarrels,  settled  differences,  taught  slaves  and 
common  men, — the  poor  man  who  was  good  to  the 
poor." 

**  The  fish,  the  rabbits  and  the  hares,"  the  legend 
says,  "  placed  themselves  in  this  fortunate  man's 
hands."  *  *  *  *  f)^Q  birds  were  silent  or 
sang  at  his  command.  "  Be  silent,"  said  the  saint 
to  the  swallows,  "  'tis  my  turn  to  talk  now."  And 
again :  "  My  brothers,  the  birds,  you  have  great 
cause  to  praise  your  Creator,  who  covered  you  with 
such  fine  feathers  and  gave  you  wings  to  fly  through 
the  clear,  broad  fields  of  air." 

One  need  not  be  very  devout  to  be  attracted  by 
such  graceful  simplicity. 

Delsarte  went  farther.     Whether  he  accepted  this 


DELSARTE'S   RELIGION.  315 

magnetic  attraction  as  true  or  whether  he  regarded 
it  as  purely  symboHc  —  for  this  kind  of  miracle  is 
not  dependent  on  faith.  —  he  considered  the  monk 
of  Assisi  as  a  lover  of  nature,  whose  heart  was  big 
enough  to  love  everything  that  lives,  to  suffer  with 
all  that  suffers.  He  strove  to  comprehend  him  by 
placing  him  upon  a  pinnacle,  well  aware  that  the 
sublime  often  lurks  between  the  trifling. 

It  was  on  such  occasions  that  the  man  of  intellect 
revived  to  ennoble  and  illumine  everything.  If, 
despite  his  magnificent  rendering  of  them,  Delsarte 
never  called  legendary  fictions  in  question,  let  us 
not  refuse  him  that  privilege.  In  such  cases  the 
poetry  became  his  accompHce,  and  —  "  Every  poet 
is  the  toy  of  the  gods,"  as  Beranger  says,  a  simple 
song-writer,  as  Delsarte  was  a  simple  singer. 

There  was  in  him  whom  Kreutzer  called  "  the 
apostle  of  the  grand  dramatic  style,"  a  desire,  I  will 
not  say  for  realism,  but  for  realization,  for  action. 
Thus  he  once  had  a  fancy  to  join  the  semi-clerical 
society  of  the  third  order ;  it  was  a  way  of  keeping 
himself  in  practice,  since  there  were  various  pre- 
scriptions, observances  and  interdictions  attached  to 
the  office.  One  must  repeat  certain  prayers  every 
day,  and  submit  to  a  certain  severity  of  costume. 
No  precious  metal,  not  even  a  thread  of  gold  or  sil- 
ver must  be  seen  about  one.  In  the  first  moments 
of  fervor,  a  beautiful  green  velvet  cap,  beautifully 
embroidered  in  gold  —  the  loving  gift  of  some 
pupil  or  admirer,  —  was  interdicted,  that  is  to  say, 


3l6  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

was  shut  up  in  a  closet  or  reduced  to  the  con- 
dition of  a  mere  piece  of  bric-a-brac.  Luckily,  the 
association  did  not  require  eternal  vows,  and  I  think 
I  saw  the  pretty  article  restored  to  its  proper  use 
later  on. 

Another  attempt  —  and  this  was  his  own  crea- 
tion —  tempted  this  inquiring  mind ;  he  wished  to 
pay  especial  homage,  under  some  novel  form, 
to  the  Holy  Trinity.  The  adepts  were  to  be  called 
the  Trinitarians.  In  the  founder's  mind,  this  start- 
ing-point was  to  be  the  seed  for  a  sort  of  confrater- 
nity with  the  mark  of  true  friendship  and  unity  of 
faith. 

This  dream  was  never  realized,  apparently,  for  it 
seems  that  the  association  could  never  number  more 
than  three  members  at  a  time :  so  that  it  was  in 
number  only  that  it  justified  its  title.  Delsarte  was 
very  fond  of  these  few  adherents.  '*  The  Trini- 
tarians—  where  are  the  Trinitarians?"  was  some- 
times the  cry  at  a  lecture.  It  was  the  voice  of  the 
master  who  had  reserved  a  seat  of  honor  for  each 
of  them.  This  is  all  I  ever  knew  about  this  society, 
and  I  have  reason  to  think  that  it  never  got  beyond 
a  few  talks  among  the  members  upon  the  subject 
which  united  them. 

It  is  not  without  reluctance  that  I  expose  his 
weaknesses;  but  timid  as  the  steps  must  ever  be 
which  are  taken  upon  historic  ground,  we  must 
walk  in  daylight.  No  one,  moreover,  could  regard 
this  effervescence  of  a  sentiment  noble  in  its  source, 


DELSARTE'S   RELIGION.  317 

as  a  want  of  intellectual  liberty.  It  was  the  af- 
fectionate side  of  his  nature  which  at  moments 
dimmed  his  reason,  but  never  went  so  far  as  to  put 
out  its  light.  I  need  not  attempt  to  defend  on  this 
point  one,  of  whom  Auguste  Luchet  wrote : 

**  It  is  by  his  soul  and  his  science  that  he  lifts  you, 
transports  you,  strikes  you,  shatters  you  with  terror, 
anguish  and  love  !  " 

And  Pierre  Zaccone  says: 

**  He  is  an  artist,  apart,  exceptional,  perhaps 
unique !  with  what  finished  art,  what  talent,  what 
GENIUS,  he  uses  the  resources  of  his  voice !  " 

That  which  best  atoned  in  Delsarte  for  the  grain 
of  fanaticism  with  which  he  was  reproached,  was 
the  tolerance  which  prevailed  in  every  controversy, 
in  every  dissension.  If  he  sometimes  blamed  free 
thought,  he  never  showed  ill  will  to  free-thinkers. 
In  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  —  so  different  from  the 
spirit  of  the  devout  party  —  he  was  "all  things  to 
all  men."  He  was  on  a  very  friendly  footing  with 
a  priest  whom,  by  his  logic  and  his  sincerity,  he  had 
prevailed  upon  to  forsake   the  ecclesiastical  calling. 

In  our  discussions,  which  dealt  with  secondary 
subjects  of  various  forms  of  belief  —  for  I  never 
denied  God,  or  the  soul  and  its  immortality,  or  the 
freedom  of  the  will  which  is  the  honor  of  the  hu- 
man race,  or  the  power  of  charity,  provided  it  be- 
come social  and  fraternal,  instead  of  merely  alms- 
giving as  it  has  been, —  in  these  debates,  sometimes 
rather  lively,  I  would  end  by  saying  to  him :    *'  You 


3l8  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

know  that  I  love  and  seek  truth ;  very  well !  if  God 
wished  me  to  join  the  ranks  in  which  you  serve,  he 
would  certainly  give  me  a  sign ;  but  so  long  as  I 
do  not  receive  His  summons,  what  have  I  to  do 
with  it?" 

I  spoke  his  own  language,  and  he  yielded  to  my 
reasoning.  "  Come,"  he  would  say,  '*  I  prefer  your 
frankness  to  the  pretenses  of  feigned  piety ;  "  and 
he  would  add  sorrowfully :  "Alas  !  I  often  encounter 
them  !  "  So  we  always  ended  by  agreeing,  and  this 
truce  lasted  —  until  our  next  meeting. 

The  words  which  I  have  just  quoted  prove  that 
if  Delsarte  clung  to  the  Catholic  dogmas,  he  was 
particularly  touched  by  the  sincere  piety  and  active 
charity  of  simple,  evangelic  hearts.  I  may  give  yet 
another  proof  of  this. 

To  satisfy  his  sympathies  as  much  as  to  rescue 
his  clan,  when  attacked,  he  would  always  quote  a 
father  confessor,  one  Father  Pricette  —  this  name 
should  be  remembered  in  the  present  age  —  who, 
during  the  icy  nights  of  December,  slept  in  an  arm- 
chair, because  he  had  given  his  last  mattress  to 
some  one  poorer  than  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
delsarte's  friends.  • 

Friendly  relations — although  disputes  often  arose 
—  were  established  toward  1840  between  Delsarte 
and  Raymond  Brucker  (known  to  literature  as 
Michel  Raymond).  Fortunately  in  spite  of  the  in- 
fluence of  the  author  of  *'  Mensonge,"  Delsarte's 
superior  rank  always  prevailed  in  this  intimacy. 

Michel  Raymond  published  several  novels  in  the 
first  half  of  this  century.  Later  on,  he  took  his 
place  in  the  ranks  of  that  militia  of  Neo-Catholics, 
the  fruit  of  the  Restoration.  (I  do  not  know 
whether  I  am  justified  in  giving  the  name  of  Neo- 
CathoHc  to  Brucker;  perhaps,  on  the  contrary,  his 
dreams  were  all  of  the  primitive  church.  But,  in 
spite  of  his  Jewish  crudities,  I  suppose  he  would 
never  have  joined  the  followers  of  Father  Loyson.) 
His  keen,  sharp  and  caustic  spirit  did  not  forsake 
him  when  he  changed  his  principles ;  and  never  did 
the  Christ  —  whose  symbol  is  a  lamb  without  a 
stain  —  have  a  sterner  or  more  warlike  zealot. 

In  appearance,  Brucker  had  somewhat  the  look 
of  a  Mephistopheles  —  a  demon  then  very  much  in 
vogue, —  especially  when  he  laughed,  his  laughter 
being  full  of  sardonic  reserves.  If  Delsarte's  mode 
of  proselyting  was  almost  always  gentle,  affection- 
ate, adapted  to  the  spirit  he  aspired  to  conquer, 


320  ARNAUD    ON   DELS  ARTE. 

that  of  Raymond  Brucker  had  an  aggressive  fashion; 
he  became  brutal  and  cynical  when  discussion 
waxed  warm. 

Once,  in  reply  to  one  of  his  vehement  attacks 
against  the  age,  in  which  he  used  very  unparlia- 
mentary expressions,  he  drew  upon  himself  the  fol- 
lowing answer  from  a  woman :  "  But,  sir,  I  should 
think  that  in  the  ardor  of  your  recent  convictions, 
your  first  act  of  faith  should  have  been  to  make 
an  auto-da-fe  of  all  the  books  signed  Michel  Ray- 
mond." 

I  repeat,  this  writer,  although  of , undoubted  in- 
tellectual merit,  could  not  annul  Delsarte's  native 
tendencies ;  he  could  never  have  led  Delsarte  into 
any  camp  which  the  latter  had  not  already  decided 
to  join ;  but  when  they  met  on  common  ground,  he 
influenced,  excited  and  sometimes  threw  a  shadow 
over  him. 

When  they  had  fought  together  against  the  near- 
est rebel,  long  and  lively  discussions  would  often 
arise  between  them,  but  they  always  agreed  in  the 
end :   the  artist's  good-nature  so  willed  it! 

If  dissension  continued,  if  the  fiery  friend  had 
given  cause  for  reproach,  Delsarte  merely  said: 
**  Poor  Brucker  !  "  But  how  much  that  brief  phrase 
could  be  made  to  mean  in  the  mouth  of  a  man  who 
taught  an  actor  to  say,  ''  I  hate  you  !  "  by  uttering 
the  words,  '•  I  love  you,"  and  who  could  ring  as 
many  changes  on  one  sentence  as  the  thought,  the 
feehng,  the  occasion,  could  possibly  require. 


delsarte's  friends.  321 

Do  not  suppose,  however,  that  Delsarte  abused 
his  power.  Contrary  to  many  actors  who  carry 
their  theatrical  habits  into  their  private  life,  he 
aimed  at  the  most  perfect  simplicity  outside  of  the 
roles  which  he  interpreted.  "  I  make  myself  as 
simple  as  possible,"  he  would  say,  "  to  avoid  all 
suspicion  of  posing."  But  still  he  could  not  entirely 
rid  himself,  in  conversation,  of  those  inflections 
which  illuminate  words  and  are  the  genuine  mani- 
festation of  the  inner  meaning. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  relation  between  our  two 
converts  assumed  the  proportions  of  friendship, 
doubtless  in  virtue  of  the  mysterious  law  which 
makes  contrast  attractive. 

Hegel  says :  "  The  identical  and  the  non-identical 
are  identical ;  "  and  this  proposition  passes  for  non- 
sense. Perhaps  if  he  had  said:  "May  become 
identical,"  it  would  be  understood  that  he  meant  to 
speak,  in  general,  of  that  reconciliation  of  contra- 
ries which  united  the  calm  genius  of  Delsarte 
and  the  bristling,  prickly  spirit  of  Raymond 
Brucker. 

One  motive  particularly  contributed  to  the  union ; 
Brucker  was  unfortunate  in  a  worldly  sense.  Del- 
sarte, improvident  for  the  future  and  scorning  money, 
still  had,  during  the  best  years  of  his  professorship, 
a  relatively  comfortable  home.  He  loved  to  have 
his  friend  take  advantage  of  it.  Large  rooms,  well 
warmed  in  winter,  a  simple  table,  but  one  which 
lacked  no  essential  article,  were  of  no  small  impor- 
21 


322  ARNAUD   ON   DELS  ARTE. 

tance  to  one  whose  scanty  household  had  naught 
but  sorrow  and  privation  to  offer. 

How  many  evenings  they  spent  together  in  dis- 
sertations which  often  ended  in  nothing  —  and  how 
often  the  dawn  surprised  them  before  they  were 
weary ! 

For  Brucker  it  was  a  refuge,  but  for  Delsarte, 
what  a  waste  of  time  and  strength  taken  from  his 
real  work  !  That  wasted  time  might  have  sufficed  to 
fix  and  produce  certain  special  points  in  his  method. 
Then,  top,  his  health  demanded  greater  care. 

Take  it  for  all  in  all,  this  intimacy  was  perhaps 
more  harmful  than  helpful  to  Delsarte.  Yet  I  have 
been  told  that  Raymond  Brucker  urged  the  innova- 
tor to  elaborate  his  discovery,  and  often  reproached 
him  with  his  negligence  in  pecuniary  matters.  It 
was  he  who  said :  *'  Francois  Delsarte's  system  is  an 
orthopedic  machine  to  straighten  crippled  intel- 
lects." 

I  have  also  heard  in  favor  of  Raymond  Brucker, 
that  that  mind  so  full  of  bitterness,  that  inquisitor 
in  partibus,  was  most  tender  toward  a  child  in  his 
family,  and  that  he  bore  his  poverty  bravely.  I 
desire  to  note  these  eulogies  side  by  side  with  the 
less  favorable  reflections  which  I  considered  it  my 
duty  to  write  down  here.  I  recall  a  short  anecdote 
which  will  serve  to  close  the  Brucker  story. 

As  we  have  said,  they  were  seldom  parted.  One 
day  Delsarte  had  agreed  to  dine  with  the  family  of  a 
pupil.     As  he  was  on  his  way  thither,  he  met  his 


delsarte's  friends.  323 

inseparable  friend.  From  that  moment  his  only 
thought  was  to  excuse  himself  from  the  dinner; 
but  his  hosts  were  reluctant  to  give  up  such  a 
guest ;  they  insisted  —  they  were  offended. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Delsarte ;  "  I  really  cannot 
stay!  I  had  forgotten  that  Brucker  was  to  dine 
with  me." 

''But  that  can  be  arranged  !  M.  Brucker  can 
join  us.     Suppose  we  send  and  ask  him?  " 

"You  need  not,"  replied  the  master;  *' if  you 
are  willing,  I  will  call  him ;  he  is  waiting  for  me  be- 
low at  the  corner." 

They  had  acted  as  children  do,  when  one  says  to 
the  other  on  leaving  school : 

**  Wait  a  minute  for  me,  I'll  ask  mamma  if  you 
can  come  and  dine  with  us." 

Brucker,  who  after  all  knew  how  to  be  agreeable 
when  he  chose,  took  his  place  at  the  table,  and  all 
went  well. 

This  proves  yet  once  again  the  extent  to  which 
Delsarte  possessed  that  charming  simphcity  so  well 
suited  to  all  distinction. 

In  the  dissertations  upon  religious  subjects  inces- 
santly renewed  about  Delsarte,  it  was  sometimes 
declared  that  '*  great  sinners  were  surer  of  salvation 
than  the  most  perfect  unbelievers  in  the  world." 

A  young  man,  who  doubtless  felt  himself  to  be 
in  the  first  category,  once  said  to  the  master : 

"  My  friend,  the  good  God  has  been  too  kind  to 
me  !     I  disobey  him,  I  offend  against  his  laws.  .  .  . 


324         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

I  repent,  and  he  accepts  my  prayer !  I  relapse  into 
sin  —  and  he  forgives  me !  Decidedly,  the  good 
God  is  a  very  poltroon !  " 

This  seems  to  exceed  the  unrestrained  ease  and 
confidence  usual  toward  an  earthly  father ;  but  we 
must  not  forget  that  the  inflection  modifies  the 
meaning  of  a  phrase,  and  that  poltroon  may  mean 
adorable. 

This  penitent,  now  famous,  carried  his  provoca- 
tion of  the  inexhaustible  goodness  very  far.  At 
one  time  in  his  life  he  tried  to  blow  out  his  brains ! 
By  a  mere  chance  —  he  probably  said,  by  a  mira- 
cle,—  the  wound  was  not  mortal;  but  he  always 
retained  the  accusing  scar.  I  never  knew  whether 
this  unpleasant  adventure  preceded  or  followed  Mr. 
L.'s  conversion,  or  whether  it  was  coincident  with 
one  of  the  relapses  of  which  that  repentant  sinner 
accused  himself. 

Another  very  religious  friend  was  no  less  fragile 
in  the  observance  of  his  firm  vow.  Becoming  a 
widower,  he  swore  eternal  fidelity  to  the  **  departed 
angel."  Soon  after,  he  was  seen  with  another  wife 
on  his  arm ! 

"  And  your  angel  ?  ^'  whispered  a  sceptic  in  his 
ear. 

'*  Oh,  my  friend ! "  was  the  reply,  "  this  one  is 
an  archangel." 

Another  figure  haunted  Delsarte  and  afforded 
yet  another  proof  of  his  tolerance.  The  Italian, 
C ,  shared  neither  his  political  ideas  nor  his  re- 


delsarte's  friends.  325 

ligious  beliefs ;  he  was  one  of  those  refugees  whom 
the  defeats  of  the  Carbonari  have  cast  upon  our 
soil,  and  whose  necessities  France — does  our  neigh- 
bor remember  this  ?  —  for  years  supplied,  as  if  they 
were  her  own  children.  However,  she  could  offer 
them  but  a  precarious  living. 

Signor  C,  to  give  some  charm  to  his  wretched 
existence,  desired  to  add  to  his  scanty  budget  a 
strong  dose  of  hope  and  intellectual  enjoyment: 
hope  in — what  came  later  —  the  independence  and 
unity  of  Italy.  By  way  of  diversion,  this  stranger 
gratified  himself  by  indulging  in  a  whim ;  he  had 
dreams  of  a  panacea,  a  plant  whose  complex  virtues 
should  combat  all  the  evils  which  fall  to  the  lot  of 
poor  humanity ;  but  this  marvel  must  be  sought  in 
America.  And  how  was  he  to  get  there,  when  he 
could  barely  scrape  together  the  necessary  five 
cents  to  ride  in  an  omnibus !  The  Isabellas  of  our 
day  do  not  build  ships  for  every  new  Columbus  who 
desires  to  endow  the  world  with  some  wonderful 
treasure  trove !  And  yet  this  man  was  not  mad ; 
he  was  one  of  those  who  prove  how  many  insane 
ideas  a  brain  may  cherish,  without  being  entitled  to 
a  cell  in  Bedlam  or  Charenton. 

While  awaiting  the  realization  of  his  golden 
dreams,  poor  C.  spent  his  time  in  perpetual  adora- 
tion' of  the  Talma  of  Music  —  for  so  Theophile 
Gautier  styled  Delsarte ;  he  never  missed  a  lec- 
ture ;  he  took  part  in  the  talks  which  lengthened 


326  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

out  the  evening  when  the  parlor  was  at  last  cleared 
of  superfluous  guests. 

Among  his  many  manias — how  many  people  have 
this  one  in  common  with  him  ! — the  Italian  cherished 
the  idea  that  he  was  of  exceptional  ability,  and  that 
in  more  than  one  direction.  He  proclaimed  that 
Delsarte  went  far  beyond  everything  that  he  knew — 
equal  to  all  that  could  be  imagined  or  desired 
in  regard  to  art — but  as  for  himself,  C,  was  he  not 
from  a  land  where  art  is  hereditary,  where  it  is 
breathed  in  at  every  pore,  from  birth?  And  more 
than  the  mass  of  his  countrymen,  did  he  not  feel 
the  volcanic  heat  of  the  sacred  fire  burning  within 
him? 

One  evening,  he  made  a  bold  venture.  He  had 
prepared  a  tirade  written  by  some  Italian  poet.  All 
that  I  remember  of  it  is  that  it  began  with  the  words : 
"  Trema  —  Treina  !  "    [Tremble  —  Tremble  !] 

The  impromptu  tragedian  recited  several  lines  in 
a  declamatory  tone  accompanied  by  gestures  to 
match.  Delsarte  listened  without  a  sign  of  praise 
or  blame.  Then  he  rose,  struck  an  attitude  appro- 
priate to  the  text,  but  perfectly  natural,  and,  in  his 
quiet  way,  said : 

"  Might  not  you  as  well  give  it  in  this  key?"  Then, 
in  a  voice  of  repressed  harshness,  his  gestures  sub- 
dued but  expressive  of  hatred,  he  repeated  the  two 
words :   '*  Trema  —  Trema  I " 

The  listeners  shuddered.  Delsarte  had  produced 
one  of  those  effects  which  can  never  be  forgotten. 


DELSARTE'S    FRIENDS.  32/ 

The  smouldering  ashes  did  not  burn  long ;  four  syl- 
lables were  enough  to  extinguish  the  flame. 

Following,  not  the  chronological  order,  but  that 
of  circumstances  and  incidents  calculated  to  throw 
light  on  my  subject,  I  must  once  more  retrace  the 
course  of  years. 

C.'s  persistency  went  on  before  and  after  1848. 
During  the  second  period,  all  minds  were  greatly 
agitated  by  the  state  of  politics.  C,  in  spite  of  his 
undoubted  liberalism  —  he  spent  a  great  part  of  his 
leisure  in  making  democratic  constitutions — thought, 
like  every  other  claimant,  that  he  had  duties  to  per- 
form ;  and  that  he  might  as  well,  to  facilitate  his 
task,  make  an  ally  of  the  Emperor,  without  scruple ; 
but  access  to  royalty  was  no  less  impossible  than 
landing  on  the  American  shore  where  his  panacea 
grew.     He  hit  upon  the  following  plan : 

A  number  of  ladies  were  to  go  in  a  body  and  im- 
plore Napoleon  III  to  pardon  certain  exiles  :  for  the 
same  calamities  always  follow  civil  war,  and  there 
are  always  women  ready  to  beg  for  justice  or  mercy. 

C,  who  knew  their  purpose,  said,  to  one  of  the 
petitioners :  ''  How  are  you  going  to  make  the  Em- 
peror understand  that  I  am  the  only  man  capable 
of  saving  the  situation?  " 

The  petition  was  not  presented;  and  the  world 
remains  to  be  saved  ! 

Our  Italian  had  another  specialty :  he  was  perpet- 
ually in  search  of  some  notorious  somnambulist.  It 
is  a  well-known  fact  that  the  mental  agitation  caused 


328         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

by  governmental  crises  .s  very  favorable  to  these 
pythonesses  of  modern  times.  Each  wishes  to  outrun 
the  future  and  to  afford  himself  at  least  an  illusion 
of  the  triumph  of  his  party.  The  oracles  varied  ac- 
cording to  the  opinion  of  the  person  who  magnet- 
ized these  ladies,  and,  often,  according  to  the  pre- 
sumed desire  of  the  audience. 

Delsarte  allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  into  these 
mysteries.  He  had  time  for  everything.  It  afforded 
him  relaxation,  and  a  means  of  observation.  On 
one  occasion,  he  followed  the  refugee  to  a  garden 
where  a  person  of  *'  perfect  lucidity  "  prophesied. 
The  sibyl  was  a  believer  as  well  as  a  seer  and  pre- 
tended to  communicate  with  God  in  person.  I  do 
not  know  exactly  what  supernal  secrets  the  woman 
revealed,  while  she  slept,  but  the  result  was  ridicu- 
lous. 

They  had  forgotten  to  fix  the  hour  for  the  next 
sitting :  so,  to  repair  the  omission  —  by  means  of  a 
few  passes  —  the  somnambulist  was  restored  to  sleep 
and  lucidity.  Then  in  a  corner  of  the  garden,  in  a 
familiar  tone  and — to  use  the  popular  expression — 
"  as  if  talking  to  her  equal,"  she  began  this  colloquy 
in  which,  as  may  well  be  imagined,  the  voice  of 
Jehovah  was  not  heard  : 

*'My  God,  what  day  shall  we  return?" 

**  He  says  Wednesday,"  announced  the  lady. 

"  Thank  you,  God  !  " 

If  the  Italian  went  into  ecstasies  over  this  irrever- 
ent trifling,  Delsarte  did   not  disdain  to  caricature 


DELSARTE'S   FRIENDS.  329 

it,  and  gave  us  a  most  comical  little  performance. 
Here  again  we  see  how  he  could  transform  every- 
thing, and  make  something  out  of  nothing ! 

Among  the  frequenters  of  his  lectures  was  an 
artist  whom  I  would  gladly  mention  for  his  talent 
if  I  did  not  fear  to  annoy  him  by  connecting  his 
name  with  an  incident  concerning  him.  I  relate  it 
in  the  hope  of  somewhat  diverting  my  readers,  to 
whom  I  must  so  often  discourse  of  serious  things. 

Mr.  P.  painted  a  portrait  of  Delsarte  as  a  young 
man.  The  features  are  exact,  the  pose  firm  and 
dignified,  the  eye  proud.  The  painter  and  the 
model  were  on  very  good  terms  and  sympathized 
in  religious  matters.  It  must  have  been  the  master 
who  brought  him  over.  He  still  burned  with  the 
zeal  peculiar  to  recent  converts;  to  such  a  point 
that  even  on  a  short  excursion  into  the  country,  he 
could  not  await  his  return  to  Paris  to  approach  the 
stool  of  repentance.  This  desire  seemed  easily  sat- 
isfied ;  what  village  is  without  a  father  confessor ! 

So,  one  fine  day,  the  artist  rang  at  the -first  par- 
sonage he  could  find.  The  priest's  sister  opened 
the  door  —  offered  him  a  seat  —  and  told  him  that 
her  brother  was  away.  But,  after  these  prelimina- 
ries, the  lady  seemed  uneasy.  She  inquired  what 
the  stranger  wanted. 

'*  To  speak  with  the  priest." 

What  could  this  stranger  have  to  say  to  him? 
Such  was  the  question  which  floated  in  her  eyes, 
amidst  the  confused  phrases  in  which  she  strove  to 


330  ARNAUD    ON   DELS  ARTE, 

gain  an  explanation.  Mr.  P.  finally  told  her  that 
he  had  come  to  confess. 

'*  My  brother  will  not  return  till  very  late,"  said 
the  poor  girl,  unable  to  disguise  her  distress. 

"  I  will  wait !  "  replied  the  traveler. 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  not !  " 

He  thought  he  heard  her  mutter:  **  We  read  such 
things  in  the  papers  !  " 

The  visitor  at  last  perceived  that  she  took  him  for 
a  thief,  and  he  could  not  depart  quickly  enough. 

One  more  anecdote : 

Francois  Delsarte  called  himself  a  bad  citizen, 
because  he  disliked  to  undertake  the  duties  entailed 
by  reason  of  the  national  guard — a  dignity  long  de- 
manded by  the  advanced  party  of  the  day,  but  of 
which  they  soon  wearied. 

I  think  that  the  artist's  infractions  were  often 
overlooked,  and  his  reasons  for  exemption  were 
never  too  closely  scanned.  And  yet,  the  soldier- 
citizen  was  one  day  arraigned  before  a  council  of 
discipline,  which,  without  regard  for  this  representa- 
tive of  the  highest  personages  of  fiction,  condemned 
him  to  three  days'  imprisonment. 

It  was  as  if  they  had  imprisoned  saltpetre  in  com- 
pany with  a  bunch  of  matches  —  but  he  restrained 
his  rebellious  feelings  ;  he  would  not  give  his  judges 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  his  torment.  He  soon 
thought  only  of  procuring  consolation:  he  sum- 
moned his  friends,  who  visited  him  in  throngs. 
Then  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  his  companions 


delsarte's  friends.  331 

in  misfortune.  There  was  one  especially,  who, 
alone,  would  have  made  up  to  him  for  all  the  incon- 
veniences of  his  forced  arrest. 

The  first  time  that  this  prisoner  entered  the  room 
where  the  other  prisoners  were  assembled,  he  looked 
at  them  with  the  most  solemn  air,  put  his  hand  to 
his  forehead,  made  a  military  salute,  and  in  grave 
tones,  as  if  beginning  a  harangue,  he  uttered  these 
words : 

"  Captives  —  I  salute  you  ! " 

It  was  strangely  pertinent.  Delsarte  was  not 
behindhand  in  comic  gravity.  This  little  scene 
enlivened  him. 

Another  compensation  fell  to  the  lot  of  our  cap- 
tive. One  of  the  prisoners  sang  him  a  song,  one 
stanza  of  which  lingered  in  his  memory.  I  tran- 
scribe it: 

**  I  was  born  in  Finisterre, 
At  Quimperlay  I  saw  the  light. 
The  sweetest  air  is  my  native  air. 
My  parish  church  is  painted  white ! 
Oh !  so  I  sang,  I  sighed,  I  said, — 
How  I  love  my  native  air, 
And  parish  church  so  bright !  " 

These  lines,  written  by  some  Breton  minstrel,  in- 
spired one  of  those  sweet,  plaintive  airs  which  the 
drawling  voice  of  the  drovers  sing  as  they  return  at 
nightfall;  one  of  those  airs  which  seem  to  follow 
the  brook  down  the  valleys,  and  which  repeat  the 
echoes  of  the  mountains,  in  the  far  distance. 

Oh !  how  Delsarte  used  to  murmur  it ;  it  made 
one  homesick  for  Brittany ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DELSARTE'S   SCHOLARS. 

To  get  one's  bearings  in  that  floating  population 
(where  persistency  and  fidelity  are  rare  qualities) 
which  haunts  a  singing-school,  it  is  well  to  make 
classifications.  In  Delsarte's  case,  the  novelty  of 
his  processes,  his  extraordinary  reputation  among 
the  art-loving  pubHc,  the  length  of  time  which  he 
insisted  was  necessary  for  complete  education,  all 
combined  to  produce  an  incessant  ebb  and  flow 
of  pupils. 

Therefore,  I  must  distinguish. 

First,  there  were  those,  brought  by  Delsarte's 
generosity,  whose  only  resource  was  a  vocation  more 
or  less  favored  by  natural  gifts.  He  would  say : 
"  Come  one,  come  all."  But,  of  course,  many  were 
called,  and  few  were  chosen,  the  majority  only  mak- 
ing a  passing  visit. 

Then  there  were  the  finished  artists.  They  took 
private  lessons,  coming  to  beg  the  master  to  put 
the  finishing  touch  to  their  work,  hoping  to  gain 
from  him  something  of  that  spiritual  flame  which 
consecrates  talent.  I  shall  not  undertake  to  speak 
of  all,  but  I  must  quote  a  few  names. 

One  winter  day,  says  La  Patrie  for  June  i8,  1857, 
a  woman,  beautiful  and  still  young,  visited  Delsarte, 


DELSARTE'S    SCHOLARS.  333 

begging  him  to  initiate  her  into  the  mysteries  of 
Gluck's  style : 

"  You  are  the  greatest  known  singer,"  she  said ; 
*'  no  one  can  enter  into  the  work  of  the  great  mas- 
ters and  seize  their  most  secret  thought  as  you  do ; 
teach  me !  " 

**  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Franpois  Delsarte. 

"  Henrietta  Sontag,"  rephed  the  stranger. 

Madame  Barbot  had  a  moment  of  great  triumph, 
and  was  summoned  to  Russia  at  the  period  of  her 
success  in  Paris.  She  was  perhaps  the  master's  best 
imitator ;  she  had  somewhat  of  his  tragic  emotion, 
his  style,  his  gesture ;  then  what  did  she  lack  to 
equal  him?  She  lacked  that  absolute  sine  qua  non 
of  art  and  poetry — personality.  She  added  little  of 
her  own. 

Even  among  those  who  could  neither  hear  his 
lectures  nor  follow  his  lessons,  Delsarte  had  disci- 
ples. A  great  singing-teacher,  whom  I  knew  at 
Florence,  was  eager  to  learn  everything  concerning 
the  method.  I  often  heard  him  ask  a  certain  young 
girl,  as  he  read  a  score :  "  You  were  Delsarte's 
pupil ;  tell  me  if  he  would  have  read  this  as  I  have 
done?" 

Even  the  famous  Jenny  Lind  made  the  journey 
from  London  to  ,Paris,  expressly  to  hear  the  great 
singer. 

At  his  lectures  were  seen  from  time  to  time :  M. 
and  Mme.  Amand  Chev6,  Mile.  Chaudesaigues,  M. 
Mario  Uchard — who,  after  his  marriage,  asked  for 


334  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

elocution  lessons  for  his  wife  (Madeleine  Brohan), 
—  Mile.  Rosalie  Jacob,  whose  brilHant  vocalization 
never  won  the  renown  which  it  deserved,  Mme. 
Carvalho,  who  was  not  one  of  the  regular  attendants, 
but  who  trained  her  rare  talent  as  a  light  singer, 
there,  before  the  very  eyes  of  her  fellow  pupils, — 
Geraldon,  who  was  very  successful  in  Italy,  under 
the  name  of  Geraldoni. 

Then,  there  was  Mme.  de  B ,  who  appeared 

at  the  opera  under  the  name  of  Betty;  a  beauty 
with  a  fine  voice.  This  artist  did  not  perfect  her 
talents,  being  in  haste  to  join  the  theatre  in  Rue 
Lepelletier,  under  the  shield  of  another  master.  Al- 
though well  received  by  the  public,  she  soon  gave 
up  the  profession. 

A  memory  haunts  me,  and  I  cannot  deny  it  a 
few  lines. 

Mme.  M.  may  have  been  eighteen  when  she 
began  to  study  singing  with  Delsarte,  together  with 
her  husband,  who  was  destined  for  a  similar  career. 
She  had  an  agreeable  voice,  but  a  particularly 
charming  face,  the  freshness  of  a  child  in  its  cradle, 
a  sweet  expression  of  innocence.  In  figure  she  was 
tall  and  slender.  The  lovely  creature  always  looked 
like  a  Bengal  rose  tossing  upon  its  graceful  stalk. 
These  young  students  considered  themselves  finished 
and  made  an  engagement  with  the  manager  of  a 
theatre  in  Brazil. 

''Don't  do  it,"  said  Delsarte  to  the  husband, 
knowing  his  suspicious  nature,  *'  that  is  a  dangerous 
region ;  you  will  never  bring  your  wife  back  alive." 


delsarte's  scholars.  335 

He  prophesied  but  too  truthfully. 

Soon  after,  we  heard  that  the  fair  songstress  had 
been  shot  dead  by  the  hand  of  the  husband  who 
adored  her.  I  like  to  think  that  she  was  innocent 
of  more  than  imprudence.  The  story  which  reached 
us  from  that  distant  land  was,  that  M.  M.  threat- 
ened to  kill  his  wife  if  she  continued  to  associate 
with  a  certain  young  man. 

"  You  would  never  do  it !  "  she  said. 

She  did  not  reckon  on  the  aberrations  of  jealousy. 
It  was  said,  in  excuse  for  the  murderer,  that  she 
had  defied  him,  saying: 

'*  I  love  him,  and  I  do  not  love  you  !  " 

After  the  catastrophe,  the  unfortunate  husband 
gave  himself  up  to  justice.  No  case  was  found 
against  him,  but  how  he  must  have  suffered  when 
he  had  forever  cut  himself  off  from  the  sight  of  that 
enchanting  creature ! 

Three  figures  stand  preeminent  in  the  crowd: 
Darcier,  Giraudet,  Madame  Pasca. 

I  will  proceed  in  order  of  seniority. 

The  first  named  did  not  attend  the  lectures  when 
I  did,  but  I  often  heard  him  mentioned  in  society 
where  he  attracted  attention  by  his  rendering  of 
Delsarte's  "  Stanzas  to  Eternity,"  Pierre  Dupont's 
*'  Hundred  Louis  d'or,"  and  many  other  impressive 
or  dramatic  pieces.  I  know  the  master  considered 
him  possessed  of  much  aptitude  and  feeling  for  art. 

They  met  one  evening  at  a  large  party  given  by 
a  high   official  of  the  day.     Darcier  sang  well,  in 


336  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

Delsarte's  opinion;  but  it  was  perhaps  too  well 
for  a  public  made  up  of  fashionables,  not  con- 
noisseurs. 

"  It  takes  something  more  than  talent  to  move 
them,"  thought  the  real  judge,  annoyed ;  and  with 
that  accent  familiar  to  well-bred  people,  which  trans- 
figures a  triviality,  he  said  to  the  singer : 

"  Let  them  have  the  bread  !  " 

He  referred  to  a  political  song  ending  with  these 
lines : 

"  Ye  cannot  hush  the  moan 
Of  the  people  when  they  cry :  *  We  hunger  ...  * 
For  it  is  the  cry  of  nature, 
They  want  bread,  bread,  bread  !  " 

The  guests  were  forced  to  give  the  attention  which 
it  demanded  to  this  cry  which  aroused  the  idea  of 
recent  seditions,  and  the  performer  came  in  for  his 
share. 

This  artist  may  still  be  heard,  but  his  talents  are 
displayed  in  so  narrow  a  circle  that  his  reputation 
is  a  limited  one.  Yet  it  is  said  that  his  compositions 
and  his  mode  of  singing  them  attest  to  great  vigor. 

Darcier,  it  seems,  always  retained  a  strong  feeling 
of  devotion  for  his  master.  He  has  been  heard 
to  say :  *'  I  fear  but  two  things  —  Delsarte  and 
thunder." 

Alfred  Giraudet  joined  the  grand  opera  as  primo 
basso  ca^itante.  He  was  warmly  received  by  the 
press,  and  had  already  won  a  name  at  the  Op6ra 
Comique  and  at  concerts.     In  this  singer  may  be 


delsarte's  scholars.  337 

noted  the  firmness  of  accent  and  scholarly  mode  of 
phrasing,  always  in  harmony  with  the  prosody  of  the 
language,  which  are  part  of  the  tradition  of  the  great 
school.  He  always  bears  himself  well  on  the  stage, 
and  the  sobriety  of  his  gesture  is  a  salutary 
example  which  some  of  his  present  colleagues  would 
do  well  to  imitate. 

He,  too,  was  a  loyal  soul ;  he  always  regarded  it 
as  an  honor  to  bear  the  title  of  pupil  of  DelsartCy 
the  latter  always  writing  to  him  as  my  dear  and  last 
disciple,  T  owe  many  of  the  memories  and  docu- 
ments used  in  this  volume  to  his  kindness. 

Alfred  Giraudet  always  took  his  audience  captive 
when  he  sang  Malherbe's  verses  —  music  by  Reber 
—  of  which  each  strophe  ends  with  the  following 
lines : 

**  Leave  these  vanities,  put  them  far  behind  us, 
'Tis  God  who  gives  us  life, 
'Tis  God  whom  we  should  love." 

The  broad,  sustained  style,  so  appropriate  to  the 
words  of  the  melody,  finds  a  sympathetic  interpre- 
ter in  the  young  artist. 

Delsarte  gave  this  with  great  maestria.  The  finale, 
particularly,  always  transports  the  listeners. 

If  any  one  can  revive  the  tradition  of  the  master's 
teachings,  it  is  certainly  Giraudet,  who  understands 
the  method  and  appreciates  its  high  import. 

Madame  Pasca  was  one  of  the  latest  comers ;  her 
advent  was  an  event.  There  were  pupils  in  the 
school  who  were  destined  for  the  theatre,  and  there 

22 


338         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

were  women  of  society;  the  future  artist  of  the 
Gymnase  partook  of  both  phases.  She  had  the 
advantages  of  a  vocation  and  of  a  careful  education ; 
her  fortune  allowed  her  to  dress  elegantly,  with  the 
picturesqueness  imparted  by  artistic  taste. 

Chance,  or  a  presentiment  of  speedy  success,  led 
her  to  take  her  place,  on  the  first  day,  very  near  the 
master,  in  a  peculiar  seat  —  a  sort  of  small,  low 
easy  chair  which  inspired  one  with  a  sense  of  non- 
chalance. She  was  in  full  sight.  Her  gaze,  pro- 
found and  sombre  at  times,  roamed  over  the  room 
with  the  natural  air  of  a  meditative  queen.  She  in- 
spired all  beholders  with  curiosity  and  interest.  The 
feeling  which  she  aroused  in  her  fellow-pupils  was 
less  distinct.  Her  rare  advantages  caused  a  vague 
fear  in  those  who  hitherto  had  securely  held  the 
foremost  rank ;  her  beauty  created  a  sense  of  rivalry^ 
unconscious  for  the  most  part,  and  yet  betrayed  by 
countless  signs. 

There  was  a  flutter  of  excitement  throughout  the 
school.  This  increased  when  the  young  woman  con- 
firmed, by  her  first  efforts,  all  that  her  agreeable  ap- 
pearance and  fascinating  voice  had  promised.  She 
declaimed  a  fragment  from  Gluck's  ''Armida  "  which 
other  pupils  sang ;  a  word  sufficed  to  change  inter- 
est to  sympathy. 

That  accent  touched  all  hearts.  What  visible 
grief  and  what  a  sense  of  suppressed  tears  when  in 
her  grave,  slow  tones  she  uttered  the  phrase : 

"  You  leave  me,  Rinaldo  !   Oh,  mortal  pain !  " 


DELSARTE'S   SCHOLARS.  339 

The  master  soon  obtained  from  this  marvellous 
aptness,  what  is  rarely  acquired,  even  after  long  years 
of  study:  dramatic  effects  free  from  all  hint  of 
charlatanism.  The  distinguishing  point  between 
Madame  Pasca  and  Madame  Barbot  is,  that  the 
latter,  while  observing  all  the  rules  of  the  method 
avoided  servile  imitation. 

Delsarte  was  all  the  more  delighted  at  his  success, 
because  he  had  revealed  to  his  scholar  her  true  call- 
ing. Madame  Pasca  came  to  him  for  singing- 
lessons,  but  her  large,  strongly-marked  voice  had 
little  range.  She  was  directed  toward  the  art  which 
she  afterward  practiced,  and  began  her  studies 
with  tragedy.  Some  idea  of  what  she  did  in  this 
field  may  be  formed  from  the  effect  which  she  pro- 
duced in  pathetic  scenes,  where  the  comedy  allowed 
her  serious  voice  to  show  its  power  and  penetrating 
tone. 

I  need  not  speak  of  Madame  Pascals  success  at 
the  Gymnase  and  abroad.  It  is  known  and  un- 
doubted. Still  she  lacks  the  consecration  of  the 
stage  where  Mars  and  Rachel  shone.  When  this 
artist. left  the  school  to  enter  upon  her  career,  Del- 
sarte said  to  her: 

"  My  dear  child,  you  will  spend  your  life  in  aton- 
ing for  the  crime  of  being  my  pupil." 

He  was  right,  for  Madame  Pasca  has  no  place  at 
the  Fran^ais  yet. 

I  can  speak  from  hearsay  merely,  of  the  lessons 
in  elocution  and  declamation  intended  for  preachers 


340  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

—  particularly  for  the  fathers  of  the  Oratory,  — 
never  having  been  present  at  them.  I  only  know 
that  Father  Monsabre  and  other  famous  ecclesi- 
astics took  lessons  from  Francois  Delsarte. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DELSARTE'S   MUSICAL  COMPOSITIONS. 

Delsarte  paid  but  little  attention  to  musical  com- 
position ;  still  his  musical  works  prove  that  he  would 
have  succeeded  here  as  elsewhere,  had  he  devoted 
himself  particularly  to  the  task. 

To  say  nothing  of  six  fine  vocal  exercises  and  a 
number  of  songs  which  had  their  day,  his  "  Stanzas 
to  Eternity"  were  highly  popular.  A  mass  by  him 
was  performed  in  several  churches ;  but  his  "  Last 
Judgment,"  especially,  ranics  him  among  serious 
composers. 

This  setting  of  the  Dies  Irce  is  touching  and 
severe;  the  melody  is  broad,  sombre,  threatening; 
the  accompaniment  reminds  one  of  the  dull  rattling 
of  the  skeletons  reassuming  their  original  shape. 
One  seems  to  hear  the  uneasy  hum  of  voices  roused 
from  long  sleep. 

One  incident  showed  the  importance  of  this  work. 
Variqus  pieces  of  concerted  music  were  being  re- 
hearsed one  night  at  the  church'  of  St.  Sulpice,  for 
performance  during  the  solemnity  of  "  the  work  of 
St.  Francis  de  Xavier."  A  close  circle  formed 
around  the  musicians;  private  conversation  added 
a  discordant  note  to  the  harmony;  the  church 
echoed  back  the  footsteps  of  people  walking  to 
and  fro. 


342  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

The  Dies  IrcB  came  !  The  music  at  first  imitates 
the  angel  trumpets  which,  according  to  Christian 
behef,  are  to  be  heard  when  time  shall  end.  The 
summons  sounded  four  times. 

This  mournful  chant  of  reawakening  generations 
instantly  silenced  every  voice  and  every  step ;  all 
were  motionless  ;  and  the  solemn  melody  alone 
soared  to  the  vaulted  roof. 

A  touching  story  is  told  of  this  work.  At  a  large 
and  miscellaneous  gathering,  M.  Donoso-Cortes,  a 
well-known  Spanish  publicist,  then  ambassador  to 
Paris,  begged  Delsarte  to  sing  his  Dies  IrcB,  A 
space  was  cleared  in  the  music-room. 

The  score  of  the  symphony  for  voice  and  piano, 
made  by  Delsarte  himself,  retains  all  his  intentions 
and  effects,  to  which  his  striking  voice  added  greatly. 

Delsarte  began : 

"Dies  irae,  dies  ilia, 
•Solvet  sseclum  in  favilla, 
Teste  David  cum  sybilla." 

The  whole  assembly  were  taken  captive.  M. 
Donoso-Cortes  was  particularly  moved.  His  eyes 
filled  with  tears.     He  was  not  quite  well  that  night- 

A  week  later  th'e  newspapers  invited  the  friends  of 
the  illustrious  stranger  to  meet  at  St.  Philippe-du- 
Roule,  to  witness  his  funeral  rites.  Delsarte  was 
present ;  the  church  was  so  hung  with  black  that 
the  choristers  were  alarmed  for  the  effect  of  their 
motets. 

The  artist   recalled   the   request   made   him   the 


DELSARTE'S   MUSICAL   COMPOSITIONS.         343 

previous  week  by  the  Spanish  ambassador.  He  felt 
as  if  that  same  voice  came  from  the  bier  and  begged 
him  for  one  more  hymn  to  the  dead.  In  spite  of 
his  emotion,  he  offered  to  sing  the  Dies  Irce, 

To  obviate  the  lack  of  resonance,  Delsarte  sang  — 
according  to  his  theory  in  regard  to  the  laws  of 
acoustics, — without  expenditure  of  sound,  almost 
mezza  voce. 

No  one  was  prepared.  The  listeners  were  all  the 
more  overcome  by  those  tones  in  which  the  friend's 
regrets  pervaded,  with  their  sweet  unction,  the  mas- 
terly diction  of  the  singer. 

When  his  oldest  daughter  grew  up,  Delsarte 
seemed  to  take  a  fancy  to  a  different  style  of  com- 
position. He  would  not  give  that  young  soul  the 
regular  repertory  of  his  pupils,  all  passion  and  pro- 
fane love.  He  wrote  for  Marie  words  and  music  — 
couplets  which  were  neither  romance  nor  song ;  nor 
were  they  quite  canticles,  although  religion  always 
lay  at  the  base  of  them. 

I  know  none  but  Madame  Sand  who  can  be  com- 
pared to  Delsarte  in  variety  of  feeling  and  simplicity 
even  unto  grandeur.  I  have  often  observed  a  like- 
ness and,  as  it  were,  a  kinship  between  these  great 
minds.  And  yet  these  two  great  souls,  these  two 
great  spirits,  never  exchanged  ideas.  The  artist 
never  received  the  plaudits  of  the  distinguished 
writer.     Both  regretted  it. 

Delsarte  said  :  ''  I  lac^  that  sanction,"  and  Madame 
Sand  wrote,  when  he  had  ceased  to  live :   **  I  knew 


344  ARNAUD    ON   DELS  ARTE. 

Delsarte's  worth ;  I  often  intended  to  go  and  hear 
him,  and  some  circumstance,  beyond  my  control, 
always  prevented." 

The  world  owes  a  debt  to  Delsarte  for  collecting 
under  the  title  "  Archives  of  Song,"  the  lyric  gems 
of  the  XVI,  XVII,  and  XVIII  centuries.  And  also 
the  songs  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  prose  hymns  and 
anthems  of  the  church,  arranged  conformably  to  the 
harmonic  type  consecrated  by  the  oldest  traditions. 

"All  these  works,"  he  wrote  in  his  announcement 
of  the  work,  "  faithfully  copied,  arranged  for  the 
piano  and  transposed  for  concert  performance,  will 
finally  be  arranged  and  classified  in  separate  vol- 
umes, to  suit  various  voices,  ages,  styles,  schools, 
etc.,  thus  affording  subject  matter  for  a  complete 
course  of  vocal  studies." 

I  do  not  think  that  death  allowed  Delsarte  to 
complete  this  vast  plan,  but  it  was  partly  finished. 
In  the  collection,  we  find  the  scattered  treasures  of 
an  eminently  French  muse :  old  songs  picked  up  in 
the  provinces,  in  which  wit  and  naive  sentimentality 
dispute  for  precedence.  All  this  still  exists,  but 
who  can  sing  as  he  did  the  song  beginning :  "  I  was 
but  fifteen,"  or  ''  Lisette,  my  love,  shall  I  forever 
languish?"  and  so  many  others! 

To  explain  the  inexpressible  charm  which  dis- 
tinguished Delsarte  from  all  other  singers,  a  song- 
stress once  said :  ''  His  singing  contrives  to  give  us 
the  soul  of  the  note.  The  others  are  artists,  but  he 
is  the  artist'' 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

DELSARTE'S    EVENING  LECTURES. 

In  Francois  Delsarte's  school  there  were  morning 
classes  and  evening  classes.  The  former  were  more 
especially  devoted  to  the  theory,  to  lessons.  Those 
of  which  I  shall  speak  might  be  compared  to  lec- 
tures, to  dramatic  and  musical  meetings.  A  choice 
public  was  always  present.     Among  them  were : 

The  composers  Reber  and  Gounod ; 

Doctor  Dailly,  Madame  de  Meyendorf — a  great 
Russian  lady,  the  friend  of  art; 

The  Princess  de  Chimay  and  the  Princess  Czarto- 
riska,  who  glided  modestly  in  and  took  the  humblest 
place ; 

Madame  Blanchecotte,  whose  charming  verses 
were  crowned  by  the  Academy ; 

Countess  d'Haussonville,  a  familiar  name; 

M.  Joly  de  Bammeville,  one  of  the  exhibitors  at 
the  Exhibition  of  Retrospective  Arts,  in  1878; 

Doriot,  the  sculptor  ;  Madame  de  Lamartine, 
Madame  Laure  de  Leomenil,  a  well-known  painter; 
Madame  de  Blocqueville,  daughter  of  Marshal  Da- 
vout,  and  author  of  his  biography;  a  throng  of 
artists,  men  of  letters  and  scientists  ;  certain  original 
figures  of  the  period. 

On  one  occasion  we  were  joined  by  a  man  of 
some    celebrity  —  the      chiromancist    Desbarolles. 


346         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

Delsarte  had  the  courtesy  to  base  his  theory  lesson 
upon  the  latter's  system ;  he  pointed  out  its  points 
of  relation  with  the  sum  total  of  the  constitution  of 
the  human  being.  It  was  a  lesson  full  of  spirit  and 
piquant  allusions;  one  of  those  charming  impromp 
tus  in  which  Delsarte  never  failed. 

From  time  to  time  certain  persons  in  clerical 
robes  appeared  in  the  audience ;  the  austerity  of 
their  habit  contrasting  somewhat  strangely  with  the 
attire  of  the  elegant  women,  men  of  fashion  and 
young  actors  in  their  apprenticeship  around  them; 
but  matters  always  settled  themselves.  One  even- 
ing one  of  these  priests  was  in  a  neighboring 
room,  the  doors  of  which  were  open  into  the  draw- 
ing-room. If  the  songs  seemed  too  profane,  he  kept 
out  of  sight ;  but  so  soon  as  the  word  God  was  pro- 
nounced or  a  religious  thought  was  mingled  with  a 
romance,  or  operatic  aria,  the  servant  of  the  altar 
appeared  boldly,  rejoiced  at  these  brief  harvests 
which  allowed  him  to  enjoy  the  whole  picture. 

To  give  a  correct  idea  of  one  of  these  evenings, 
I  will  copy  an  account  which  I  have  just  written 
under  the  heading  of  "  Recent  Memories." 

By  half-past  eight,  almost  all  the  guests  have  as- 
sembled. A  stir  is  heard  in  the  next  room.  **  He 
is  coming  .  .  .  it  is  he !  "  is  whispered  on  every 
hand.  The  master  enters,  followed  by  his  pupils. 
Almost  at  the  same  instant  a  young  woman  glides 
up  to  the  piano.  She  is  to  accompany  the  singers ; 
she  enters  furtively,  timidly,  as  if  she  were  not  the 


DELSARTE'S   EVENING   LECTURES.  347 

mistress  of  the  house.  She  is  beautiful,  but  she 
does  not  wish  this  to  be  noticed ;  she  has  much 
talent,  but  she  disguises  it  by  her  calm  and  severe 
style  of  playing,  which  does  not  prevent  critical  ears 
from  noting  her  exactitude  and  precision,  combined 
with  that  rare  spirit  of  abnegation  which  is  the  ac- 
companist's supreme  virtue. 

Delsarte  takes  his  place  by  the  piano ;  his  atten- 
tive gaze  traverses  the  assembly;  he  exchanges  a 
smile,  a  friendly  gesture  with  certain  of  the  audience 
who  are  always  much  envied.  At  this  moment  he 
is  grave,  serious,  and.  as  it  were,  penetrated  by  his 
responsibility  to  an  audience  who  hang  devoutly  on 
his  lips. 

The  professor  begins  by  developing  some  point  in 
his  system ;  he  gives  the  law  of  pose  or  of  gesture ; 
the  reasons  for  accent,  rhythm  or  some  other  detail 
connected  with  the  synthesis  which  he  has  evolved. 
He  questions  his  scholars. 

The  first  notes  of  the  piano  serve  to  mark  the 
change  to  practical  instruction.  The  pupils  sing  in 
turn.  The  master  listens  with  the  concentrated  at- 
tention peculiar  to  him;  the  expression  of  his  face 
explains  the  nature  of  the  remarks  he  is  about  to 
make,  even  before  he  utters  them.  He  points  out 
mistakes,  he  illustrates  them. 

Little  by  little,^  however,  his  dramatic  genius  is 
aroused.  Achilles  seems  to  seize  his  weapons  or 
Agamemnon  his  sceptre.  The  scholar  is  pushed 
aside,  Delsarte  takes  his  place. 


348         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

Then  the  artist  is  seen  to  the  utmost  advantage. 
There,  dressed  in  the  vast,  shapeless  coat  which 
drapes  itself  about  him  as  he  gesticulates,  his  neck 
free  from  the  cravat  which  puts  modern  Europeans 
in  the  pillory,  and  allowing  himself  greater  space 
than  at  his  concerts  —  there,  and  Jthere  alone,  is 
Delsarte  wholly  himself. 

The  piano  strikes  the  opening  notes  of  the  pre- 
lude, and  before  the  artist  has  uttered  a  word,  he  is 
transfigured.  If  he  is  singing  serious  opera,  the 
oval  of  his  face  lengthens,  the  lines  become  more 
fixed,  his  cheeks  shrink,  his  forehead  is  lighted  up 
and  his  eye  flashes  with  inspiration ;  the  pallor  of 
profound  emotion  pervades  his  features,  the  some- 
what gross  proportions  of  his  figure  are  disguised 
by  the  firmness  of  his  pose  and  the  juvenile  pre- 
cision of  his  gesture. 

The  part  of  Robert  the  Devil  is  one  of  those  in 
which  Delsarte  best  developed  the  resources  and 
suppleness  of  his  genius.  Robert  is  the  son  of  a 
demon,  but  his  mother  was  a  saint.  He  loves  with 
sincere  love ;  but  even  this  love  is  subject  to  the  in- 
fluence of  the  evil  spirit;  hence,  these  outbursts 
followed  by  such  tender  remorse,  that  heart  which 
melts  into  tears  after  a  fit  of  rage.  Robert  i-^^  jealous, 
less  so  than  Othello  possibly,  but  Robert's  jea'ousy 
is  stimulated  by  infernal  powers  ^nd  must  difl*er  in 
its  manifestation.  It  was  in  these  shades  of  distinc- 
tion that  Delsarte's  greatness  was  apparent  to  every 
eye. 


DELSARTE'S   EVENING  LECTURES.  349 

Then  came  those  indescribable  inflections  — 
words  which  pierced  your  heart,  cold  as  a  sword- 
blade:  ''Come,  come! "  says  Robert,  striving  to 
drag  Isabella  away,  .  .  .  and  that  simple  word 
was  made  frantic,  breathless,  by  the  accent  accom- 
panying it.  No  one  who  has  not  heard  Delsarte 
utter  the  word  rival  can  conceive  of  all  the  mysteries 
of  hate  and  pain  contained  in  the  word. 

In  the  trio  from  "  William  Tell,"  after  the  words, 
"  has  cut  an  old  man's  thread  of  life,"  Arnold  feels 
that  Gessler  has  had  his  father  murdered.  A  first 
and  vague  suspicion  dawned  on  the  artist's  face. 
Little  by  little,  the  impression  became  more  marked, 
a  clearer  idea  of  this  misfortune  was  shown  by  pan- 
tomime; his  eye  was  troubled,  it  kindled,  every 
feature  questioned  both  William  and  Walter;  the 
actor's  hand,  trembling  and  contracted,  was  stretched 
toward  them  and  implored  them  to  speak  more 
clearly.  He  was  horror-stricken  at  the  news  he  was 
to  hear,  but  uncertainty  was  intolerable ;  and  when, 
after  these  touching  preparations,  Arnold  himself 
tore  away  the  last  shred  of  doubt,  when  he  uttered 
the  cry:  *' My  father!"  there  was  not  a  heart  — 
were  it  bathed  in  the  waters  of  the  Styx  —  which 
did  not  melt  from  the  counter  shock  of  such  violent 
despair. 

The  effects  of  rage,  hate,  irony,  the  terrors  of  re- 
morse, the  bitterness  of  disappointment,  were  not 
the  only  dramatic  means  in  the  possession  of  that 
artist  whom  Madame  Sontag  proclaimed  as  ''the 


3  so  ARNAUD    ON    DELS  ARTE. 

greatest  known  singer."  None  could  express  as  did 
Delsarte,  contemplation,  serenity,  tenderness  —  the 
dreams  of  a  sweet  and  simple  soul,  and  even  the 
divine  silliness  of  innocent  beings.  Wit  and  malice 
were  equally  easy  for  him  to  render. 
In  the  duet  from  *'  Count  Ory :  " 

**  Once  more  I'll  see  the  beauty  whom  I  love," 

he  was  quite  as  apt  at  interpreting  the  hypocritical 
good-nature  of  the  false  hermit  as  the  sentimental 
playfulness  of  the  love-lorn  page. 

In  his  school  the  comic  style  bore  an  impress  of 
propriety  and  distinction,  because  it  resulted  from 
intellectual  perceptions  rather  than  it  expressed  the 
vulgar  sensations  manifested  by  exaggerated  carica- 
ture and  grimace. 

Delsarte  thus  put  his  stamp  upon  every  style 
which  he  attempted ;  he  renovated  every  part.  He 
restored  Gluck  to  life ;  he  revealed  Spontini  to  him- 
self. The  latter  —  the  illustrious  author  of  '*  Fer- 
nando Cortez  " — was  at  a  musical  entertainment 
where  Delsarte,  whom  he  had  never  known,  sang. 
He  had  drunk  deep  of  the  composer's  inspiration : 
he  showed  this  in  the  very  first  phrase  of  the  great 
air: 

'*  Whither  do  ye  hasten  ?  Oh,  traitorous  race !  " 

He  sang  with  such  vigorous  accent,  such  great 
maestriay  that  —  in  the  mouth  of  Montezuma  —  the 
words  must  have  sufficed  to  rally  the  Mexican  army 
from  its  rout.     He  gave  the  cantabile : 

**  Oh  country,  oh  spot  so  full  of  charm ! ' 


DELSARTE'S   EVENING  LECTURES  35 1 

with  indescribable  sadness ;  desolation  and  despair 
seemed  to  fill  his  soul,  and  when  the  conquered  man 
invoked  the  spirits  of  his  ancestors : 

**  Shall  I  say  to  the  shadows  of  my  fathers, 
Arise  —  and  leave  your  gloomy  tomb!  " 

it  seemed  —  so  powerful  was  the  adjuration  —  as 
if  the  audience  must  see  the  sepulchre  open  on  the 
spot  which  the  singer  and  actor  indicated  by  his 
gesture  and  his  gaze. 

Such  profound  knowledge,  sublime  talent,  terrify- 
ing effects  and  contrasts  so  skilfully  managed,  and 
yet  so  natural  in  their  transition,  strongly  moved  the 
composer. 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  made  me  tremble?  "  Del- 
sarte  said  to  him  after  he  had  sang. 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  made  me  weep?"  repHed 
Spontini,  charmed  to  see  his  work  raised  to  such  pro- 
portions. 

Delsarte  was  always  master  of  himself,  however 
impassioned  he  appeared. 

Often,  in  his  lessons,  when  every  soul  hung  upon 
his  accents,  he  would  stop  abruptly  and  restore  the 
part  to  his  pupil.  Then,  as  if  a  magic  wand  had 
touched  him,  all  the  attributes  of  the  personage  who 
had  lived  in  him,  vanished.  His  face,  his  form,  his 
bearing  resumed  their  usual  appearance.  The  artist 
disappeared,  and  the  professor  quietly  resumed  his 
place,  without  seeming  to  notice  that  the  audience 
—  still  shaken  by  the  emotions  they  had  felt-- 
blamed  him  for  this  too  prompt  metamorphosis. 


35  2  ARlsTAUD   ON  DELS  ARTE. 

Yet  Delsarte  was  as  agreeable  a  teacher  as  he  was 
a  marvelous  artist.  His  instruction  was  enlivened 
by  countless  unexpected  flashes ;  his  saUies  were  as 
quick  as  gunpowder. 

^^  I  die  !''  languidly  sang  a  tenor. 

"  You  sleep  !  "  said  the  master. 

"  Come^  lady  fair  I "   exclaimed  another  singer. 

"  If  you  call  her  in  that  voice,  you  may  believe 
that  she  will  never  comej  " 

"  Don't  make  a  public-crier  of  your  Achilles," 
said  the  master  to  some  one  with  a  rich  organ,  given 
over  to  its  own  uncultivated  power. 

All  three  smiled.  The  one  tried  to  die  more  fitly ; 
the  other  to  call  his  lady  fair  in  more  seductive  ac- 
cents. The  petulant  outburst  of  the  master  taught 
them  more  than  many  a  long  dissertation. 

Delsarte  made  great  use  of  his  power  of  imitating 
a  defect ;  he  even  exaggerated  it  so  that  the  scholar, 
seeing  it  reflected  as  in  a  magnifying-glass,  more 
readily  perceived  his  insufficiency  or  his  exaggeration. 

If  this  mode  of  procedure  was  somewhat  trying 
to  sensitive  vanity,  it  was  easy  to  see  its  advantages. 
The  master's  censure,  moreover,  was  of  that  inoflen- 
sive  and  kindly  character  which  is  its  own  justifica- 
tion. It  was  a  criticism  governed  by  gaiety.  Delsarte 
laughed  at  himself  quite  as  readily  as  at  the  ridicu- 
lous performances  which  he  caricatured,  if  oppor- 
tunity offered.  And  if  by  chance  any  pupil  less 
hardened  to  these  assaults  was  intimidated  or  dis- 
tressed, consolation  was  quick  to  follow. 


DELSARTE'S   EVENING  LECTURES.  353 

I  remember  that  a  young  girl  gave  rise  to  one  of 
these  striking  imitations.  Delsarte  put  such  an 
irresistible  comedy  into  it,  that  the  audience  was 
seized  with  an  uncontrolable  fit  of  mirth.  The 
master's  mimicry  had  far  more  to  do  with  this  than 
the  poor  girl's  awkwardness.  But  she  did  not  under- 
stand this.  Her  heart  sank  at  this  harsh  merriment 
and  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  the  matter,"  asked  Delsarte  ;  "  why 
are  you  so  disturbed?  Among  the  persons  whose 
laughter  you  hear,  I  do  not  think  there  is  one 
who  sings  as  well  as  you  do !  I  exaggerated  your 
mistake  to  make  you  aware  of  it ;  but  you  did  your 
work  in  a  way  that  was  very  satisfactory  to  all  but 
your  teacher." 

Speaking  of  this  irony  tempered  by  mercy,  I  rec- 
ollect that  Delsarte,  after  a  great  success,  was  once 
complimented  by  the  singer  P.,  whose  popularity 
far  exceeded  that  of  the  "  lyric  Talma." 

"And  yet  you  have  given  me  lessons,"  said  Del- 
sarte, emphasizing  the  word  yet.  Well !  in  such  cir- 
cumstances Delsarte  showed  neither  the  pride  nor  the 
malicious  spirit  which  might  be  imputed  to  him;  his 
mind  seized  a  contrast  which  amused  him,  and  his 
face  interpreted  it,  but  his  voice  remained  soft  and 
friendly;  for,  in  spite  of  his  biting  wit  and  cutting 
phrases,  his  feelings  were  easily  touched  and  his 
heart  was  truly  rich  in  sympathy. 

Delsarte  sang  a  great  deal  during  his  lessons  ;  and 
perhaps  he,  gained,  from  the  point  of  view  of  tlie 
23 


354         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

voice,  by  confining  himself  to  fragments;  seizing 
the  opportune  moment,  and  his  voice  not  having 
had  time  to  be  tired,  he  could  give,  for  a  relatively 
long  space,  the  clear,  ringing  tones  necessary  for 
brilliant  pieces.  Then  his  vocalization  —  which  has 
only  a  mechanical  value  with  most  singers — became 
sobs,  Satanic  laughter,  delirium,  and  terror. 

Then,  too,  thanks  to  proximity,  the  most  delicate 
tones  could  be  heard  to  the  extreme  limits  of  the 
smorzandoy  still  preserving  that  slightly  veiled  tim- 
bre unique  in  its  charm,  the  mysterious  interpre- 
ter of  infinite  sweetness  and  unspeakable  tenderness. 

One  might  perhaps  have  made  a  complete  analysis 
of  Delsarte  from  hearing  him  sing  some  dramatic 
song,  but  let  him  give  Eleazar's  air  from  '*  The 
Jewess :  " 

**  Rachel,  when  the  Lord," 

or  that  of  Joseph : 

"  Paternal  fields,  Hebron,  sweet  vale, — " 

let  the  artist  give  this  in  a  quiet  style,  as  putting  a 
mute  upon  his  voice,  and  the  observer  forgot  his 
part ;  he  followed  the  entrancing  melody  as  far  as 
it  would  lead  him  into  the  realms  of  the  ineffable 
whence  he  returned  with  the  fascination  of  memory 
and  the  sorrow  of  exile. 

Let  no  one  cry  that  this  is  hyperbole !  One  of 
the  most  remarkable  accompanists  in  Paris,  an  at- 
tache of  the  Opera  Comique,  M.  Bazile,  was  once 
so  overcome  by  emotion  in  accompanying  Delsarte 
that  for  some  seconds  the  piano  f^^iled  to  do  its  duty, 


delsarte's  evening  lectures.         355 

I  might  recount  numberless  proofs  of  admiration 
equal  to  mine.  One  evening,  at  a  lecture,  the  lesson 
turned  upon  a  song  from  "William  Tell:" 

*'  Be  motionless,  and  to  the  ground 
Incline  a  suppliant  knee." 

For  stage  effect,  Delsarte  called  in  one  of  his  chil- 
dren, about  eight  or  nine  years  old. 

The  subject  is  well  known  :  William  has  been  con- 
demned to  strike  from  a  distance,  with  the  tip  of  his 
arrow,  an  apple  placed  on  the  head  of  his  child. 

William  bids  the  child  pray  to  God,  and  implores 
him  not  to  stir.  Reversing  the  action  of  all  actors 
whom  we  usually  see,  the  artist  recited  the  fragment 
in  a  wholly  concentric  fashion  ;  he  did  not  declaim  ; 
he  made  no  gesture  toward  the  audience ;  but  what 
emotion  in  his  voice,  and  how  his  gaze  hovered  over 
and  around  the  dear  creature  who  was  perhaps  to  be 
forever  lost  to  him !  He  called  the  child  to  him,  he 
pressed  him  to  his  heart ;  he  laid  his  hands  on  that 
young  head.  His  caresses  had  the  lingering  slow- 
ness of  supreme  and  final  things,  the  solemnity  of  a 
last  benediction. 

"This  point  of  steel  may  terrify  thine  eyes !  " 

says  the  text,  and  the  tragedian,  enlarging  the  mean- 
ing of  the  words  by   inflection  and   accent,  showed 
that  this  precious   life   hung   on   a   thread   and    de- 
pended on  the  firmness  of  his  hand. 
At  the  last  phrase: 

' '  Jemmy,  Jemmy,  think  of  thy  mother. 
She  who  awaits  us  both  at  home  !" 

bis  voice  became  pathetic  to  such  a  degree  that  it 


35^  ARNAUJ)   ON   DELSARTE. 

was  difficult  to  endure  it.  The  child,  who  had  re- 
strained himself  during  the  tirade,  began  to  sob. 
All  eyes  were  full  of  tears.     One  lady  fainted. 

At  concerts  his  triumph  was  the  same  on  a  larger 
scale.  I  will  give  but  one  anecdote.  A  man  of  letters, 
who  was  also  a  skilled  physician,  said  to  Delsarte : 

"  Do  you  know,  sir,  that  I  made  your  acquaint- 
ance in  a  very  strange  way?  I  was  at  the  Herz 
Hall,  at  your  concert.  Your  voice  and  singing  so 
agitated  me  that  I  was  forced  to  leave  the  room, 
feeling  oppressed  and  almost  faint." 

This  impressionable  listener  referred  to  a  day 
memorable  in  the  annals  of  the  master.  Delsarte 
—  he  sang  certain  airs  written  for  women  in  Gluck's 
operas  —  had  selected  Clytemnestra's  song: 

**  A  priest,  encircled  by  a  cruel  throng, 
Shall  on  my  daughter  lay  liis  guilty  hand." 

Just  as  this  maternal  despair  reached  its  paroxysm, 
the  artist  raised  both  hands  to  his  head  and  remained 
in  the  most  striking  attitude  possible  to  overwhelm- 
ing grief.  Loud  applause  burst  from  every  part  of 
the  hall ;  there  was  a  frenzy,  a  delirium  of  enthu- 
siasm. At  the  same  time,  a  violent  storm  burst  out- 
side ;  the  roaring  thunder,  the  rain  beating  in  floods 
upon  the  windows,  the  flashing  lightning  which 
turned  the  gas-lights  pale,  formed  a  tremendous 
orchestra  for  Gluck's  music,  and  a  fantastic  frame 
for  the  sublime  actor.  Then,  as  if  crushed  by  his 
glory,  he  prolonged  that  marvelous  eflect,  and  stood 
a  moment  as  if  annihilated  by  the  frantic  and  tumult- 
uous shouts  of  the  audjence.. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
delsarte's  inventions. 

Delsarte  always  had  his  father's  propensity  to 
devote  himself  to  mechanics  that  he  might  apply 
his  knowledge  of  them  to  new  things.  When  he 
felt  his  artistic  abilities,  not  growing  less,  but  their 
plastic  expression  becoming  more  difficult,  owing 
to  the  cruel  warnings  of  his  departing  youth,  this 
tendency  toward  occupations  more  especially  intel- 
lectual, became  more  marked. 

It  may  be  helpful  here  to  note  that  a  machine — 
that  positive  and  most  material  of  all  things  —  is  the 
thing  whose  creation  requires  force  of  understand- 
ing in  the  highest  degree 

The  brain,  that  living  machine,  lends  its  aid  to  the 
intellect;  it  represents  the  physical  side;  it  is  the 
spot  where  the  work  is  carried  on.  Feeling  has  no 
part  in  the  intellectual  acts  which  work  together  in 
mechanical  production, —  mathematics  playing  the 
principal  part, —  it  has  no  other  share,  I  say,  but 
to  inspire  certain  persons  with  a  passionate  taste  for 
abstract  studies,  which  leads  them  toward  useful  and 
glorious  discoveries. 

Thus,  this  thought  of  Delsarte  and  Pierre  Leroux 
seems  to  be  justified :  that,  in  no  case,  can  man 
break  his  essential  triplicity. 


358         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

Delsarte,  moreover,  by  changing  the  direction  of 
his  faculties,  or  rather  by  displacing  the  dominant, 
affirmed  his  freedom  of  will.  If  he  did  not  always 
class  himself  with  the  strong,  he  still  loved  to  reign 
over  himself  in  the  omnipotence  of  his  will. 

The  artist  became  an  inventor ;  he  took  out  let- 
ters-patent for  various  discoveries,  among  others  for 
an  instrument  of  precision  applicable  to  astronomi- 
cal observations.  Competent  persons  have  recog- 
nized the  great  value  of  this  invention,  conceived 
without  previous  study,  and  which  remains  hidden 
among  the  papers  of  some  official. 

Only  one  of  his  mechanical  conceptions  was  ever 
really  put  to  practical  use,  that  of  the  Guide-accord ; 
it  gained  him  a  gold  medal  at  the  Exhibition  of 
1855  ;   Dublin  awarded  it  the  same  praise. 

Berlioz  wrote  of  this  invention,  in  his  book  en- 
titled, ''A  Travers  Chants  :  " 

**  M.  Delsarte  has  made  piano  tuning  easier  hy 
means  of  an  instrument  which  he  calls  the  pJionopti- 
con.  Any  one  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  use  it 
will  find  that  it  produces  such  absolute  correctness, 
that  the  most  practiced  ear  could  not  attain  to  sim- 
ilar perfection.  This  Guide-accord  cannot  fail  to 
gain  speedy  popularity." 

On  reading  these  Hues,  one  is  tempted  to  say: 
Here,  is  an  open-hearted  writer ;  one  likes  this  out- 
burst in  regard  to  a  man  who  was  in  some  sense  his 
brother-artist.  But  what  are  we  to  think  of  this 
critic,  when  we  reflect  that  in  this  same  book,  where 
he  exalts  the  inventor,  he  never  seems  to  remember 


delsarte's  inventions.  359 

Delsarte  the  revealer  of  a  law,  the  creator  of  a  science, 
the  distinguished  teacher,  the  famous  artist.  "  He 
has  rendered  all  pianists  a  great  service  by  inventing 
this  instrument,"  says  the  author  of  '*  A  Travers 
ChafttSy'  and  that  is  all.  And  he  calls  him  Monsieur 
Delsarte,  as  if  he  were  some  unknown  musical  in- 
strument maker  or  dealer !  Had  the  author  of 
"  William  Tell "  or  "Aida "  vexed  him,  he  would 
have  spoken  of  them  as  M.  Rossini,  M.  Verdi ! 

And  yet  he  knew  all  about  the  man  whom  he 
seemed  anxious  to  extinguish,  for  it  was  he  who,  in 
a  musical  criticism,  wrote,  among  other  praises :  "  It 
is  impossible  to  imagine  superior  execution ; "  and 
elsewhere :  **  He  renders  the  thoughts  of  the  great 
masters  with  such  brilliancy  and  strength,  that  their 
masterpieces  are  made  accessible  to  the  most  stub- 
born intellect  and  the  most  hardened  sensibilities  are 
roused  by  his  tones." 

What  had  happened  to  make  the  author  of  the 
'•  Pilgrims'  March  "  so  oblivious  of  his  own  admira- 
tion ?  I  have  heard  that  the  two  musicians  quarreled 
as  to  the  interpretation  of  a  passage  by  Gluck,  and 
that  a  correspondence  much  resembling  a  literary 
warfare,  followed.  Could  this  justify  defection? 
Perhaps  a  desire  to  stifle  this  glory,  thereby  to 
lend  more  lustre  to  some  meteor  or  staVy  had  some 
share  in  this  supposed  motive. 

At  any  rate,  the  affair  is  not  to  the  honor 
of  Berlioz.  We  should  never  deny,  whatever  may 
happen,  the  just  judgment  which  we  have  uttered. 


360         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

Direct  or  indirect,  the  rivalries  of  artists  are  to  be 
regretted  for  the  sake  of  art  itself,  which  lives  on 
noble  sentiments  and  high  thoughts.  Although  we 
may  laugh  at  the  inconsequence  of  a  critic  who  ex- 
tinguishes with  one  hand  that  which  the  other  hand 
brought  to  light,  we  cannot  repress  a  deep  feeling 
of  sadness  when  we  see  upon  what  reputation  too 
often  depends,  and  when  we  ask  ourselves  how 
much  we  are  to  believe  of  the  opinions  of  certain 
chroniclers. 

The  fact  which  I  have  just  quoted  is  the  more  sur- 
prising, inasmuch  as  Berlioz  often  drew  his  inspira- 
tion from  the  method  of,  and  from  certain  modes 
of  expression  peculiar  to  Delsarte. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DELS  ARTE   BEFORE   THE   PHILOTECHNIC 
ASSOCIATION.* 

It  was  in  1865  that  Delsarte  was  heard  in  pubHc 
for  the  last  time.  The  meeting  took  place  at  the 
Sorbonne  where  the  lectures  of  the  Philotechnic 
Society  were  then  given. 

I  see  him  before  me  now  with  his  strong  person- 
ality, his  captivating  and  persuasive  speech,  his 
mind  with  its  incisive  flashes ;  but  a  visible  melan- 
choly swayed  him  and  was  to  follow  him  through 
the  variety  and  contrasts  of  the  subjects  on  his 
program. 

And  first,  he  takes  pleasure  in  proclaiming  to  all 
the  tale  of  his  mistakes.  Still  young  in  heart  and 
in  mind,  it  seems  as  if  in  giving  up  hope  on  earth, 
he  tolled  the  knell  of  all  the  enchantments  that  were 
passed  and  gone  ;  that  creative  head  fermenting  with 
the  ardor  of  discovery  seems  to  doubt  the  future  and 
bow  beneath  the  burden  of  a  sombre  submission. 

And  yet  he  is  surrounded  by  picked  men  who 
admire  him,  by  women,  young,  beautiful,  brilliant, 
eager  to  hear  him,  as  of  old  ;  but  he  is  not  deceived 
by  all  this.  A  magic  spell  has  vanished  ;  sympathy 
is  not  denied  him,  but  perhaps  he  feels  it  to  be  less 

*  For  a  fuller  report  of  this  lecture,  see  "Delsarte  System  of  Expression,"  by 
Genevieve  Stebbins^  second  edition,  S2.  Edgar  S.  Werner,  Publisher,  48  University 
Place,  New  York. 


362  ARNAUD   ON  DELS  ARTE. 

tender,  less  affectionate  than  in  the  radiant  days  of 
his  youth. 

This  explains  how,  in  the  course  of  that  evening, 
a  recrudescence  of  Christian  feehng  more  than  once 
tore  him  away  from  the  undeniable  assertions  of 
science,  not  to  drag  him  down  to  the  puerilities 
of  the  letter,  but  to  draw  him  up  into  the  clouds 
of  theology,  whence  hope  of  a  future  life,  the  con- 
solation of  farewell  hours,  smiled  upon  him. 

But  if  Delsarte  appeared  depressed,  he  was  not 
to  be  conquered.  His  restless  spirit  betrayed  him 
to  those  whom  his  mystic  fervor  might  have  misled. 

"  Many  persons,"  he  said,  "  feel  confident  that 
they  are  to  hear  me  recite  or  sing. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,  gentlemen ;  I  shall  not 
recite,  and  I  shall  not  sing,  because  I  desire  less  to 
show  you  what  I  can  do,  than  to  tell  you  whati  know." 

Soon  a  wonderful  change  passed  over  him.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  had  been  covered  with  ashes  for  an 
instant,  only  to  come  forth  in  a  more  dazzling  light. 
Hardly  had  his  audience  felt  a  slight  sense  of  revolt 
at  the  words :  "  I  shall  not  sing,"  than  they  found 
themselves  in  the  presence  of  an  orator  not  inferior 
to  the  greatest  in  the  force  of  his  images,  and  who, 
with  all  his  serious  and  pathetic  eloquence,  never 
forgot  the  studied  touches  of  the  poet,  or  the  dainty 
style  of  the  artist. 

But  I  will  not  delay  my  reader  to,  listen  to  me  I 
It  is  Delsarte  himself  who  should  be  heard.  I  will 
give  a  few  extracts: 


BEFORE   PHILOTECHNIC   ASSOCIATION.        363 

"  I  count,"  he  said,  "  on  the  novelty,  the  absolute 
novelty,  of  the  things  which  I  shall  teach  you :  Art 
is  the  subject  of  this  conversation. 

"  Art  is  divine  in  its  principle,  divine  in  its  es- 
sence, divine  in  its  action,  divine  in  its  aim. 

*'  Ah !  gentlemen,  there  are  no  pleasures  at  once 
more  lasting,  more  noble  and  more  sacred  than 
those  of  Art. 

*'  Let  us  glance  around  us :  not  a  pleasure  which 
is  not  followed  by  disappointment  or  satiety ;  not 
a  joy  which  does  not  entail  some  trouble ;  not  an 
affection  which  does  not  conceal  some  bitterness, 
some  grief,  and  often  some  remorse  ! 

**  Everything  is  disappointing  to  man.  Every- 
thing about  him  changes  and  passes  away.  Every- 
thing betrays  him ;  even  his  senses,  so  closely  allied 
to  his  being  and  to  which  he  sacrifices  everything, 
like  faithless  servants,  betray  him  in  their  turn  ;  and, 
to  use  an  expression  now  but  too  familiar,  they  go 
on  a  strike,  and   from   that  strike,   gentlemen,  they 

never  return. 

****** 

"  The  constituent  elements  of  the  body  sooner  or 
later  break  into  open  rebellion,  and  tend  to  fly  from 
each  other  as  if  filled  with  mutual  horror. 

"  But  under  the  ashes  a  youthful  soul  still  lives, 
and  one  whose  perpetual  youth  is  torture;  for  that 
soul  loves,  in  spite  of  the  disappointments  of  its 
hard  experience;  it  loves  because  it  is  young;  it 
loves  just  -because  it  is  a  soul  and  it  is  its  natural 
condition  to  love. 


364         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

"  Such  is  the  soul,  gentlemen.  Well !  for  this 
poor,  solitary  and  desolate  soul,  there  are  still  un- 
utterable joys;  joys  not  to  be  measured  by  all 
which  this  world  can  offer.  These  joys  are  the  gift 
of  Art.    No  one  grows  old  in  the  realms  of  Art.'* 

After  a  pungent  criticism  of  the  official  teaching 
of  art  as  hitherto  practiced,  Delsarte  explained  the 
chief  elements  of  aesthetics.     He  said : 

''Esthetics,  henceforth  freed  from  all  conjecture, 
will  be  truly  established  under  the  strict  forms  of  a 
positive  science P 

But,  as  in  the  course  of  his  lecture  he  had  more 
than  once  touched  the  giddy  regions  of  supernatu- 
ralism,  this  formula  seemed  a  contradiction  to  cer- 
tain minds,  yet  enthusiastic  applause  greeted  the 
orator  from  all  parts  of  the  hall. 

One  paper,  LU7iion,  said  in  this  connection: 

"  M.  Delsarte  is  a  spontaneous  soul,  his  mind  is 
at  once  Christian  and  free,  his  only  passion  is  the 
proselytism  of  the  Beautiful,  and  this  is  the  charm 
of  his  speech.  .  .  .  I  do  not  assert  that  every- 
thing in  it  should  be  of  an  absolute  rigor  of  philoso- 
phy," etc. 

The  same  paper  says  elsewhere : 

"All  these  theories  are  new,  original,  ingenious, 
in  a  word,  felicitous.  Are  they  undeniably  true? 
What  I  can  affirm  is  that  none  doubt  it  who  hear 
the  master  make  various  applications  of  them  by 
examples.     Delsarte  is  an  irresistible  enchanter." 

The  opposition  of  principles  with  which  he  is  re- 
proached, these  doubts  of  the  strength  of  his  logic, 
will  be  greatly  diminished  if  this  point   of  view  be 


BEFORE   PHILOTECHNIC   ASSOCIATION.        365 

taken  :  that  Delsarte  traced  back  an  assured  science, 
that  he  deduced  from  the  faculties  of  man  the  hy- 
pothesis that  these  faculties  are  contained  in  essence 
and  in  the  full  power  of  their  development,  in  an 
archetype  which,  to  his  mind,  is  no  other  than  the 
Divine  Trinity.  Plato's  ideal  in  aesthetics  and  in 
philosophy  was  similar  although  less  precise. 

There  is  a  saying  that  Italians  "  have  two  souls.'* 
In  Delsarte  there  were  two  distinct  types,  the  the- 
istic  philosopher  and  the  scientist. 

Now,  the  philosopher  could  give  himself  up  to 
the  study  of  causes  and  their  finality,  that  faculty 
being  allotted  to  the  mental  activity ;  he  could  even, 
without  giving  the  scientist  cause  for  complaint, 
make,  or  admit,  speculative  theories  regarding  the 
end  and  aim  of  art,  provided  that  the  scientific  part 
of  the  system  was  neither  denied  nor  diminished 
thereby. 

And  is  there  not  a  certain  kinship  between  sci- 
ence and  hypothesis  which  admits  of  their  walking 
abreast  without  conflicting? 

Delsarte,  as  we  have  seen,  rarely  left  his  audience 
without  winning  the  sympathy  of  every  member  of 
it.  At  the  meeting  of  which  I  speak,  he  vastly 
amused  his  hearers  by  an  anecdote.  He  doubtless 
wished  to  clear  away  the  clouds  caused  by  that  part 
of  his  discourse  which,  by  his  own  confession,  had 
a  good  deal  of  the  sermon  about  it. 

I  will  repeat  the  tale,  a  little  exaggerated  perhaps, 
but  still  very  piquant,  which  doubtless  won  his  par- 


366  ARNAUD   ON  DELSARTE. 

don  for  those  parts  of  his  speech  which  might  have 
been  for  various  reasons  blamed,  misunderstood  or 
but  half  understood ! 

The  story  was  of  four  professors  who,  having  ex- 
amined him,  had  each,  in  turn,  he  said,  administered 
upon  his  [Delsarte's]  cheeks  smart  slaps  to  the  col- 
leagues by  whose  advice  he  had  profited  in  previ- 
ous lessons. 

The  following  lines  were  the  subject  of  the  lesson : 

**Nor  gold  nor  greatness  make  us  blest; 
Those  two  divinities  to  our  prayers  can  grant 
But  goods  uncertain  and  a  pleasure  insecure." 

"The  first  teacher  to  whom  I  turned  declared 
there  was  but  one  way  to  recite  them  properly,  and 
this  single  method,  you  of  course  perceive,  gentle- 
men, could  be  only  his  own. 

"  *  Those  lines,'  said  he,  *  must  be  recited  with 
breadth,  with  dignity,  with  nobleness.  Listen !  ' 
Upon  which  my  instructor  began  to  declaim  in  his 
most  sonorous,  most  magisterial  tones.  He  raised* 
his  eyes  to  heaven,  rounded  his  gestures  and  struck 
a  heroic  attitude. 

'* '  Show  yourself,'  he  resumed  (after  this  demon- 
stration), *  by  the  elevation  of  your  manners,  worthy 
of  the  lessons  I  have  given  you.' 

*'  'Ah ! '  I  exclaimed,  *  at  last  I  possess  the  noble 
manner  of  rendering  these  fine  lines.' 

'*  Next  day,  having  practiced  the  noble  manner  to 
the  utmost  of  my  ability,  I  went  to  my  second  pro- 
fessor, fully  persuaded  that  I  should  hear  nothing 


BEFORE   PHILOTECllNIC   ASSOCIATION.        367 

but  congratulations.  Well !  .  .  .  I  had  hardly 
ended  the  second  line,  when  a  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders accompanied  by  a  terrible  burst  of  laughter, 
very  mortifying  to  my  noble  manner,  closed  my 
mouth  abruptly. 

'''What  do  you  mean  by  that  emphatic  tone? 
What  is  all  this  bombastic  sermon  about?  What 
manners  are  these?  My  friend,  you  are  grotesque. 
Those  lines  should  be  repeated  simply,  naturally 
and  with  the  utmost  artlessness.  Remember  that 
it  is  the  good  La  Fontaine  who  speaks !  [accenting 
each  syllable]  the-good-La-Fon-taine — do  you  hear? 
There  is  but  one  way  possible  to  render  the  Hnes 
faithfully.     Listen  to  me.' 

"  Here  the  professor  tapped  his  snuff-box, —  com- 
pressed his  lips,  dropped  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
in  an  ironical  fashion,  slightly  contracting  his  eyes, 
lifting  his  eyebrows,  moving  his  head  five  or  six 
times  from  right  to  left,  and  began  the  lines  in  a 
firm  and  somewhat  nasal  tone. 

**  Ah !  "  I  cried,  amazed,  '  there  is  no  other  way 
.  .  .  what  wonderful  artlessness,  simplicity  and 
truth  to  nature !' 

"  So  I  set  to  work  upon  a  new  basis,  saying  to 
myself:  *  Now,  at  last,  I  have  got  the  natural  style 
which  fits  the  spirit  of  this  charming  work.  I  am 
very  curious  to  know  the  impression  which  I  shall 
make  to-morrow  on  my  third  teacher.' 

"  The  moment  came,  I  struck  an  attitude  into 
which  I  introduced  the  elliptic  expressions  shown  to 


368  ARNAUD   ON   DELSARTE. 

me  the  day  before,  and  with  the  confidence  inspired 
in  me  by  a  sense  of  the  naturalness  with  which  I 
was  pervaded,  I  began : 

"' Nor  gold  nor  great     .     .     .     .' 

**  *  Wretch  !  '  cried  my  third  professor.  *  What  do 
you  mean  by  that  senile  manner,  that  tart  voice ! 
What  a  Cassandra-like  tone !  You  disgrace  those 
beautiful  lines,  miserable  fellow ! ' 

"'But,  sir     .     .     .     .' 

"  *  But,  but,  but.  I  will  drop  you  from  the  list  of 
my  pupils,  if  you  dare  to  utter  a  remark !  You  can 
do  very  well  when  you  wish !  But  every  now  and 
then  you  are  subject  to  certain  eccentric  flights. 
You  sometimes  imitate  X —  well  enough  to  be  mis- 
taken for  him ;  then  you  are  detestable,  for  you 
change  your  nature,  and  I  will  not  permit  it. 
Besides,  it  is  a  vulgar  type.  Stay,  you  looked  like 
him  just  then,  and  it  was  hideous. 

"  '  Now,  listen,  and  bear  my  lesson  well  in  mind : 
there  is  but  one  proper  way  of  reciting  those  lines^ 
do  you  hear?     There  is  but  one  way,  and  this  is  it* 

"  Here,  my  professor  took  a  pensive  attitude : 
then,  as  if  crushed  by  the  weight  of  some  melancholy 
memory,  he  cast  slowly  around  him  a  look  in  which 
the  bitterness  of  a  deep  disappointment  was  painted. 
He  heaved  a  sigh,  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  still 
keeping  his  head  bent,  and  began  in  a  grave,  muffled 
and  sustained  voice" 

*' 'Nor  gold  nor  greatness.     .     .     .' 


BEFORE   PHILOTECHNIC   ASSOCIATION.        369 

"  *  See,'  said  my  master,  *  with  what  art  I  manage 
to  create  a  pathetic  situation  out  of  those  Hnes ! 
That  is  what  you  should  imitate  !  * 

**  *  Ah !  my  dear  master,  you  are  right ;  that  is 
the  only  reading  worthy  of  that  masterpiece. 
Heavens,  how  beautiful ! '  I  said  to  myself;  *  de- 
cidedly, my  noble  teacher  and  my  natural  teacher 
understood  nothing  about  this  work.  What  an 
effect  I  shall  make  to-morrow  at  my  fourth  pro- 
fessor's class ! ' 

"Alas !  a  fresh  disappointment  awaited  me  at  the 
hands  of  my  fourth  master.  He  was,  perhaps,  even 
more  pitiless  than  the  others  to  all  the  meanings  that 
I  strove  to  express. 

"  '  Why,  my  poor  boy,'  said  he,  *  where  the  deuce 
did  you  hunt  up  such  meanings?'  What  a  sepulchral 
tone  !  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  cavernous  voice? 
And  why  that  mournful  dumb  show?  Heaven  for- 
give me !  it  is  melodrama  that  you  offer  us !  you 
have  done  no  great  thing.  You  have  completely 
crippled  poor  La  Fontaine.' 

"  'Alas  !  alas  ! '  said  I  to  myself,  '  is  my  dramatic 
teacher  as  absurd  as  the  other  two?' " 

After  the  three  preceding  imitations,  just  as  the 
audience  had  reached  the  height  of  merriment,  the 
story-teller  stopped. 

**  I  will  excuse  you,  gentlemen,  from  the  reasonings 
of  my  fourth  professor,  for  I  do  not  wish  to  prolong 
my  discourse  indefinitely." 
24 


370  ARNAUD    ON   DELSARTE. 

If  this  retreat  was  an  orator's  artifice — ^which  may 
well  be, — it  was  a  complete  success. 

There  was  a  shout:   **  The  fourth/  the  fourth/'' 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  the  fourth,  like  the  other  three, 
claimed  that  his  was  the  only  correct  style  :  I  made 
no  distinction  between  verse  and  prose,  thus  follow- 
ing the  false  method  recently  established  by  the 
Theatre-Fran9ais.  To  his  mind  the  cadence  of  the 
verse  and  the  euphonic  charm  should  outweigh 
every  other  interest.  The  pauses  which  I  made 
destroyed  its  measure.  I  had  no  idea  of  caesura, 
my  gestures  destroyed  its  harmony,  etc.,  etc.  His 
pedagogic  manner  had  nothing  in  common  with  that 
of  his  brethren." 

This  episode  was  not  a  mere  witticism  on  Del- 
sarte's  part;  he  intended  it  to  prove  his  constant 
assertion — and  with  persistent  right, — that  previous 
to  his  discovery,  art,  destitute  of  law  and  of  science, 
had  had  none  but  chance  successes. 

Delsarte  closed  this  session  by  a  summary  of  the 
law  and  the  science  which  I  have  set  forth  in  this 
book ;  but  I  must  say  it  was  at  this  moment  espe- 
cially that  he  seemed  anxious  that  his  religious  con- 
victions should  profit  by  his  artistic  wealth ;  all  out- 
side the  sphere  of  rational  demonstration  is  treated 
from  a  lofty  standpoint,  it  is  true,  and  is  freed  from 
the  commonplaceness  of  the  letter,  but  we  can  recog- 
nize none  but  a  poetic  and  literary  merit  in  it. 

It  is  to  this  latter  period  of  his  existence  that 
many  will  doubtless  try  to  fasten  the  synthesis  of  this 


BEFORE   PHILOTECHNIC   ASSOCIATION.        37 1 

great  personality ;  but  if  any  one  wishes  to  gain  an 
idea  of  Francois  Delsarte,  of  his  ability,  the  extent 
of  his  views,  the  power  of  his  reason,  the. graces  of 
his  mind,  his  artistic  perfection,  it  is  in  his  law,  in 
his  science,  in  the  memories  which  his  lectures  and 
his  concerts  left  in  the  press  of  the  time,  that  such 
an  one  must  seek  to  understand  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

delsarte's  last  years. 

Before  concluding  these  essays,  my  homage  to  the 
innovating  spirit,  the  matchless  art,  the  sympathetic 
and  generous  nature  of  Francois  Delsarte,  I  make  a 
final  appeal  to  my  memory,  and,  first,  I  invoke  afresh 
the  testimony  of  others. 

La  Patriey  June  i8,  1857,  says  in  an  enthusiastic 
and  lengthy  article : 

**  His  deep  knowledge,  his  incessant  labors,  his 
long  and  fatiguing  studies,  have  not  allowed  his  life 
to  pass  unnoted;  but  although  great  renown,  at- 
tached in  a  short  space  to  his  name,  has  sufficed 
for  the  legitimate  demands  of  his  pride,  it  has  done 
nothing,  it  must  be  owned,  to  provide  for  the  wants 
which  the  negligences  of  genius  do  not  always 
foresee." 

Then,  apropos  of  Gluck  and  other  unappreciated 
composers  of  genius,  the  author  of  the  article,  Franck 
Marie,  goes  on : 

"  With  the  confidence  to  which  I  recently  referred, 
Delsarte  has  undertaken  the  reform.  Sure  of  the 
success  which  shall  crown  his  bold  undertaking,  he 
began  almost  unaided,  a  movement  which  was  no 
less  than  a  revolution.  Between  two  snatches  from 
Romagnesi  or  Blangini,  the  majestic  pages  of  Gluck 
appeared  to  the  surprise  of  the  auditor.  The  heroes 
of  the  great  master  took  the  place  of  Thyrcis  and 
Colin,  the  songs  of  Pergolese  and  Handel,  coming 


delsarte's  last  years.  373 

from  the  inspired  mouth  of  the  virtuoso,  at  once 
aroused  unknown  sensations.  Lully  and  Rameau, 
rejuvenated  in  their  turn,  surprised  by  beauties 
hitherto  unsuspected." 

Earlier  still  (in  the  Presse  for  December  6,  1840) 
in  an  article  signed  Viscount  Charles  Delaunay  are 
these  lines : 

"  We  are,  to-night,  to  hear  an  admirable  singer 
(Delsarte).  He  is  said  to  be  the  Talma  of  music; 
he  makes  the  most  of  Gluck's  songs,  as  Talma  made 
the  most  of  Racine's  verses.  We  must  hasten,  for 
his  enthusiastic  admirers  would  never  pardon  us  if 
we  arrived  in  the  middle  of  the  air  from  'Alcestis; ' 
and  if  all  we  hear  be  true,  we  could  never  be  con- 
soled ourselves,  for  having  missed  half  of  it." 

March  14,  i860,  we  read  in  the  L' Ind€pendance 
Beige  : 

**  Among  the  many  concerts  announced  there  is 
one  which  is  privileged  to  attract  the  notice  of  the 
dilettanti.  We  refer  to  that  announced,  almost 
naively,  by  the  two  lines :  Concert  by  Fran9ois  Del- 
sarte, Tuesday,  April  4.  —  Nothing  more  !  These 
two  lines  tell  everything !  Why  give  a  program  ? 
Who  is  there  in  the  enlightened  world  who  would 
not  be  anxious  to  be  present  at  a  concert  given  by 
Delsarte?  For,  at  his  concert,  he  will  sing — he 
who  never  sings  anywhere,  at  any  price.  Observe 
what  I  say :  never  anywhere,  at  any  price,  and  I  do 
not  exaggerate." 

This  assertion,  which  shows  the  indifference  of 
Delsarte  to  the  speculative  side  of  art,  is  not  with- 
out a  certain  analogy  to  the  fact  which  follows.  At 
one  of  his  concerts  he  was  to  be  aided  by  one  of 


374         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

the  great  celebrities  of  the  time ;  Rachel  was  to  re- 
cite a  scene  from  some  play. 

The  actress  failed  to  appear.  Some  few  outcries 
were  heard.  Delsarte  considered  this  a  protest: 
"  I  beg  those  who  are  only  here  to  hear  Mademoi- 
selle Rachel,"  said  he,  'to  step  to  the  box-office. 
The  price  of  their  tickets  will  be  returned."  Ap- 
plause followed  these  words,  and  the  artist  sang  in 
a  way  to  leave  no  room  for  regret. 

I  quote  the  following  lines  from  an  article  pub- 
lished by  the  ^^  Journal  des  Villes  et  des  Camp  agues'* 
in  reference  to  a  lecture  given  in  the  great  amphi- 
theatre of  the  Medical  School,  March  ii,  1867: 

"Should  I  say  lecture?  It  was  rather  a  chat — 
a  charming  chat,  without  preparation,  clear  and 
simple,  and  wholly  free  from  academic  forms.  In 
somewhat  odd,  perhaps,  but  picturesque  and  origi- 
nal form,  M.  Delsarte  told  us  healthy  and  strength- 
ening truths  :  — '  The  misery  of  luxury  devours 
us,  but  the  truth  makes  no  display ;  it  is  modestly 
bare.'  .  .  .  *Art  may  convince  by  deceit; 
then  it  blinds.  When  it  carries  conviction  by  con- 
templating truth,  it  enlightens.  Art  may  persuade 
by  evil ;  then  it  hardens.  When  it  persuades  by 
goodness,  it  perfects. '  These  are  noble  words. 
Orator,  poet,  metaphysician,  artist,  M.  Delsarte 
offers  new  horizons  to  the  soul." 

The  sources  whence  I  draw  are  not  exhausted, 
but  I  must  pause. 

Thus  all  have  hailed  him  with  applause !  Save 
for  some  few  interested  critics,  without  distinction 
of  opinions,  political,  religious  or  philosophical,  all 


DELSARTES   LAST  YEARS.  375 

differences  were  silenced  by  this  admirable  harmony 
of  the  highest  aesthetic  faculties :  the  spirit  of  jus- 
tice conquered  party  spirit. 

But  whatever  may  have  been  said  —  and  whatever 
may  still  be  said, —  those  who  never  heard  Delsarte 
can  never  be  made  to  comprehend  him:  in  him, 
feeling,  intellect,  physical  beauty  and  beauty  of  ex- 
pression formed  a  magnificent  assemblage  of  natural 
gifts  and  of  acquired  faculties.  In  this  distinguished 
personality  nature  became  art,  to  prove  to  us  that 
outside  her  limits,  as  outside  the  limits  of  science, 
arbitrary  agreement  and  the  caprices  of  imagination 
can  create  nothing  noble  and  great,  persuasive  and 
touching. 

With  this  artist  there  was  never  anything  to  be- 
tray the  arttficia/zty  of  a  situation;  interpreted  by 
him,  the  creation,  the  invention,  became  real.  From 
his  lips  a  cry  never  seemed  a  studied  effect.  It  was 
the  rending  of  a  bosom.  A  tear  seemed  to  come 
straight  from  the  heart ;  his  gesture  was  conscious 
of  what  it  had  to  teach  us ;  in  all  these  applications 
"  of  the  sign  to  the  thing,"  there  was  never  an  error, 
never  a  mistake.  It  was  ^rut/i  adorned  by  beauty. 
In  his  singing,  roulades  became  true  bursts  of  laugh- 
ter or  true  sobs. 

Yes,  all  these  things  surpass  description. 

But  what  any  and  every  mind  may  appreciate,  is 
the  lovable,  loving  and  generous  nature  which  in- 
vested these  transcendant  qualities  with  simplicity, 
with  charm  and  with  life.     Delsarte  had  a  wealth  of 


376  ARNAUD    ON   DELS  ARTE. 

sentiment  which  overflowed  upon  the  humble  and 
the  outcast,  as  well  as  upon  those  favored  by  nature 
and  by  fortune.  Without  the  riches  which  he  knew 
not  how  to  gain,  disdainful  as  he  was  of  petty  and 
sinuous  ways,  he  was  benevolent  in  spite  of  his 
moderate  means. 

He  gave,  perhaps,  oftener  than  he  accepted  pay- 
ment for  them,  his  time,  his  knowledge  and  his  ad- 
vice to  all  who  needed  them.  He  admitted  to  his 
classes  pupils  whose  beautiful  voices  were  their  only 
wealth,  and  who  could  pay  him  only  in  hope. 

We  may  say  of  Francois  Delsarte,  that  so  sympa- 
thetic a  nature  is  rarely  seen  in  this  world  of  ours, 
where  still  prevail  —  tyrants  to  be  destroyed  —  so 
much  antagonism,  jealousy  and  rivalry.  If  some 
few  of  the  weaknesses  natural  to  poor  humanity 
may  be  laid  to  his  charge,  no  one  had  a  greater 
right  to  redemption  than  he. 

He  once  distressed  a  fashionable  woman  by  speak- 
ing severely  to  her  of  one  of  her  friends.  She  was 
much  troubled,  but  out  of  respect,  dared  not  com- 
plain. Delsarte  saw  tears  in  her  eyes.  He  instantly 
confessed  his  fault,  and  acknowledged,  with  the 
utmost  frankness,  that  he  spoke  from  hearsay,  and 
very  lightly.  He  added  that  this  mistake  should  be 
a  lesson  to  him,  and  that  he  would  think  twice  before 
becoming  the  echo  of  evil  report. 

If,  touching  his  science  and  his  art,  this  master 
often  made  assertions  which  might  seem  conceited, 
aside    from    those  convictions  which,  to  his  mind. 


delsarte's  last  years.  377 

had  the  character  of  orthodoxy,  he  used  forms  of 
speech  of  which  judges  without  authority  would 
never  have  dreamed.     I  have  heard  him  say : 

''  I  cannot  be  much  of  a  connoisseur  in  regard  to 
pianists,  for  I  only  like  to  hear  Chopin." 

He  was  always  ready  to  prafse  the  amateurs  who 
came  to  him  for  a  hearing,  even  if  they  were  the 
pupils  of  other  masters,  finding  out  among  all  their 
faults,  the  little  acquirements  or  talent  which  he  could 
from  their  performance ;  sure,  it  is  true,  to  correct 
them  if  he  afterward  became  their  instructor. 

Honors  and  fortune  seemed  within  his  grasp  when 
he  neared  his  end.  America  offered  him  immense 
advantages,  with  a  yearly  salary  of  $20,000,  to 
found  a  conservatory  in  one  of  her  cities.  A  street 
in  Solesmes  was  named  for  him.  The  King  of  Han- 
over sent  him,  as  an  artist,  the  Guelph  Cross,  and, 
as  a  friend,  a  photograph  of  himself  and  family ;  it 
was  to  this  prince,  the  patron  of  art,  that  Delsarte 
wrote  regarding  his  "  Episodes  of  a  Revelator:" 

"  I  am  at  this  moment  meditating  a  book  singular 
for  more  than  one  reason,  which  will  be  no  less  novel 
in  form  than  in  idea.  ...  I  know  not  what  fate 
is  in  store  for  this  work,  or  if  I  shall  succeed  in  see- 
ing it  in  print  during  my  lifetime." 

He  did  not  realize  this  dream. 

It  was  at  about  this  same  time  that  Jenny  Lind 
took  a  long  journey  to  hear  him  and  to  consult  him 
about  her  .art. 

At  the  period  of  the  war  of  1 870-1 871,  Delsarte 


3/8         ARNAUD  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

took  refuge  at  Solesmes,  his  native  place.  He  left 
Paris,  with  his  family,  Sept.  lO,  1870.  Already  ill, 
he  lived  there  sad,  and  crushed  by  the  misfortunes 
of  his  country.  Nevertheless,  during  this  stay,  he 
developed  various  points  in  his  method,  and  there 
his  two  daughters  wrote  at  his  dictation  the  manu- 
script, *'  Episodes  of  a  Revelator;  "  his  intellect  had 
lost  none  of  its  vigor,  but  his  nature  was  shadowed. 

Francois  Delsarte  returned  to  Paris  March  10, 
1 87 1,  after  his  voluntary  exile.  He  soon  yielded  to 
a  painful  disease,  doubtless  regretting  that  he  had 
not  finished  his  work,  but  courageous  and  submissive. 

As  far  as  it  lay  in  my  power,  my  task  is  done.  I 
have  furnished  documents  for  the  history  of  the 
arts ;  I  have  aroused  and  tried  to  fix  attention  upon 
that  luminous  point  which  was  threatened  with 
oblivion. 

Now  I  call  for  the  aid  of  all,  that  the  work  of 
memory  may  be  accomplished. 

There  are  still  among  us  many  admirers  of  Fran- 
cois Delsarte,  many  hearts  that  loved  him ;  a  sort 
of  silent  freemasonry  has  been  established  between 
them ;  when  they  meet  in  society,  at  the  theatre,  at 
concerts,  they  recognize  each  other  by  mutual  signs 
of  regret  or  disappointment.  His  name  is  pro- 
nounced, a  few  words  are  interchanged. 

"  Oh  !  those  were  happy  days.  Will  his  like  ever 
be  seen  again?  " 

To  these  I  say :  Let  us  unite  to  assure  him  his 
place  in  the  annals  which  assert  the   glories  of  the 


DELSARTE  S    LAST  YEARS.  379 

artist  and  the  man  of  science  !  Why  should  we  not 
combine  soon  to  raise  a  statue  on  the  modest  grave 
where  he  lies?  Why  should  we  not  do  for  the  inno- 
vator in  the  arts  what  the  country  daily  does  for 
mechanical  inventors  and  soldiers? 


PART  FIFTH. 


THE   LITERARY    REMAINS   OF 
FRANCOIS  DELSARTE. 


Translated   by   ABBY   L.    ALGER. 


PUBLISHER'S   NOTE. 


Part  Fifth  contains  Francois  Delsarte's  own  words. 

The  manuscripts  were  purchased  of  Mme.  Delsarte 
with  the  utiderstanding  that  they  were  all  she  had  of 
the  literary  remains  of  her  illustrious  husband.  They 
are  published  by  her  authorisation. 

The  reader  will  probably  notice  that  at  times 
Delsarte  talks  as  if  addressing  a7i  audience.  This  he 
really  didy  and  some  of  the  manuscripts  are  headings 
or  draughts  of  his  lectures  before  learned  societies  or 
of  talks  at  his  own  private  sessions. 

These  writings  are  given  to  the  public  in  the  same 
fragmentary  condition  that  Delsarte  left  them  in. 
They  were  written  upon  sheets  of  paper ^  scraps  of 
papery  doorSy  chairSy  window  casements  and  other 
objects.  A  literal  translation  has  been  madcy  without 
a  word  of  comment y  and  without  any  attempt  at  edit- 
ing them.  The  aim  has  been  to  let  Delsarte  speak 
for  himself  believing  that  the  reader  would  rather 
have  Delsarte* s  own  words  even  in  this  disjointedy 
incomplete  form — mere  rough  notes — than  to  have 
the^n  supplementedy  annotated,  interpreted  and  very 
likely  pCTverted  bv  another  person. 

EDGAR  S.  WERNER. 


FRANCOIS   DELSARTE. 


Eitract  from  tlie  Last  Letter  to  tlie  King  of  Hanoyer. 


I  am  at  this  moment  meditating  a  book,  singular 
for  more  than  one  reason,  whose  form  will  be  no 
less  novel  than  its  contents.  Your  majesty  will 
read  it,  I  hope,  with  interest. 

The  title  of  this  book  is  to  be :  "  My  Revelatory 
Episodes,  or  the  History  of  an  Idea  Pursued  for 
Forty  Years." 

It  will  be  my  task  to  connect  and  condense  into 
a  single  narrative  all  the  circumstances  of  my  life 
which  had  as  logical  consequences  the  numerous 
discoveries  which  it  has  been  granted  me  to  follow 
up,  discoveries  which  my  daily  occupations  left  me 
neither  time  nor  ability  to  set  forth  as  a  whole. 

I  know  not  what  fate  is  reserved  for  this  book. 
I  know  not  whether  I  shall  succeed  in  seeing  it  in 
print  during  my  lifetime.  The  minds  of  men  are, 
in  these  evil  days,  so  little  disposed  to  serious  ideas, 
that  it  seems  to  me  difficult  to  find  a  publisher  dis- 
posed to  publish  things  so  far  removed  from  the 
productions  of  the  century. 

But,  however  it  may  be,  if  I  succeed   in   getting 

at  least  some  part  of  my  work  printed,  I  crave,  sire, 

your  majesty's  permission  to  offer  the  dedication  to 

you.     This  favor  I  entreat  not  only  as  an  honor, 

but  also  as  an  opportunity  to  pay  public  homage  to 

all  the  kindnesses  which  your  majesty  has  never 

ceased  to  lavish  upon  me. 

FRANgois  Delsarte. 


EPISODE  I. 

The  subject  in  question  was  a  scene  in  the  play 
of  the  Maris-Garcons.  The  young  officer,  whose 
part  I  was  studying,  met  his  former  landlord  after 
an  absence  of  several  years,  and  as  he  owed  him 
some  money,  he  desired  to  show  himself  cordial. 

"  Ah !  how  are  you,  papa  Dugrand  ?  "  he  says, 
on  encountering  him.  This  apostrophe  is,  there- 
fore, a  mixture  of  surprise,  soldierly  bluntness  and 
joviality. 

At  the  first  words  I  was  stopped  short  by  an 
almost  insurmountable  difficulty.  This  difficulty 
was  all  in  my  gesture.  Do  what  I  would,  my  man- 
ner of  accosting  papa  Dugrand  was  grotesque  ;  and 
all  the  lessons  that  were  given  me  on  that  scene,  all 
the  pains  I  took  to  profit  by  those  lessons,  effected 
no  change.  I  paced  to  and  fro,  saying  and  resay- 
ing  the  words:  **  How  are  you,  papa  Dugrand?" 
Another  scholar  in  my  place  would  have  gone  on ; 
but  the  greater  the  difficulty  seemed  to  me,  the 
higher  my  ardor  rose.  However,  I  had  my  labor 
for  my  pains. 

"  That's  not  it,"  said  my  instructors.  Good  heav- 
ens !  I  knew  that  as  well  as  they  did ;  but  what  I 
did  not  know  was  %vhy  that  was  not  it.  It  seems  that 
my  professors  were  equally  ignorant,  since  they 
25 


386  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

could  not  tell  me  exactly  in  what  my  way  differed 
from  theirs. 

The  specification  of  that  difference  would  have 
enlightened  me,  but  all  remained,  with  them  as  with 
me,  subject  to  the  uncertain  views  of  a  vague  in- 
stinct. 

"  Do  as  I  do,"  they  said  to  me,  one  after  the 
other. 

Zounds !  the  thing  was  easier  said  than  done. 

"  Put  more  enthusiasm  into  your  greeting  to  papa 
Dugrand !  " 

The  greater  my  enthusiasm,  the  more  laughable 
was  my  awkwardness. 

"  See  here ;  watch  my  movements  carefully ! " 

"  I  do  watch,  but  I  don't  know  how  to  go  to  work 
to  imitate  you ;  I  don't  seize  the  details  of  your 
gesture."  (It  varied  with  every  repetition.)  "  I 
don't  understand  why  your  examples,  with  which  I 
am  satisfied,  lead  to  nothing  in  me." 

"  You  don't  understand  !  You  don't  understand  ! 
It's  very  simple  !  Really,  your  wits  must  have  gone 
wool-gathering,  my  poor  boy,  if  you  are  unable  to 
do  what  I  have  shown  you  so  many  times.  Watch 
closely  now !  " 

"  I  am  watching,  sir,  with  all  my  eyes." 

"  You  certainly  see  that  the  first  thing  is  to  stretch 
out  your  arms  to  your  papa  Dugrand,  since  you  are 
so  pleased  to  see  him  again !  " 

I  stretched  out  my  arms  to  their  utmost  extent; 
but   my  body,   not   following   the    movement,  still 


EPISODE  I.  387 

wanted  poise,  and  recoiled  into  a  grotesque  attitude. 
My  teacher,  for  lack  of  basic  principles  to  guide 
him,  was  unable  to  correct  my  awkwardness ;  and, 
vexed  at  his  inability  which  he  wished  to  conceal, 
fell  back  on  blaming  my  unlucky  intellect. 

"Fool,"  said  he  finally,  "you  are  hopelessly 
stupid !  Why  are  you  so  embarrassed  ?  Are  my 
examples,  then,  worthless  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  sir,  your  examples  are  perfect." 

"  Well,  then,  imitate  them,  imbecile !  " 

"  I  will  try,  sir." 

In  this,  as  in  all  preceding  lessons,  I  could  give 
only  a  bhnd  imitation,  which  had  not  the  small 
merit  of  being  twice  alike,  even  in  my  own  eyes,  for 
every  time  I  reproduced  them  I  observed  marked 
variations  which  the  master  did  not  perceive. 

I  went  to  my  room,  as  I  had  done  many  times 
before,  with  tears  in  my  eyes  and  despair  in  my 
heart,  to  renew  my  useless  efforts,  vainly  turning  and 
returning  in  all  lights  my  unfortunate  papa  Dugrand. 

This  cruel  ordeal  lasted  five  months  without  the 
least  progress  to  lessen  its  bitterness. 

Heaven  knows  with  what  ardor  I  cultivated  my 
papa  Dugrand  \  I  thought  of  him  by  day,  and  I 
dreamed  of  him  by  night.  I  clung  to  him  with  all 
the  frenzy  of  despair,  for  I  was  determined  not  to 
be  beaten.  I  was  bound  to  triumph  at  any  cost,  for 
it  was  life  or  death  to  me.  I  resolved  not  to  give 
up  papa  Dugrand,  even  though  he  should  resist  me 
ten  years ! 


388  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

My  unceasing  repetitions  of  (to  them  abomina- 
ble) papa  Dugrand  caused  my  comrades  to  call  me  a 
bore.  In  short,  I  became  disagreeable  to  all  around 
me.  Alas !  ail  this  study,  all  these  efforts,  could 
not  overcome  the  stubborn  resistance  of  papa  Du- 
grand. My  teachers  were  at  their  wits'  end,  and 
finally  refused  to  give  me  another  lesson  on  the  sub- 
ject.   But  nothing  could  daunt  the  ardor  of  my  zeal. 

One  day  I  was  measuring  the  court-yard  of  the  Con- 
servatory, as  usual,  in  company  with  papa  Dugrand, 
and  repeating  my  "  how  are  you  ?  "  in  every  variety  of 
tone,  when,  all  at  once,  having  got  as  far  as :  "  How 
are  you,  pa — ,"  I  stopped  short  without  finishing 
my  phrase.  It  was  interrupted  by  the  sight  of  a 
cousin  of  mine,  whose  visit  was  most  unexpected. 

**Ah!  how  are  you?"  I  said;  "how  are  you, 
dear  cou —  " 

Here  my  words  were  again  interrupted  by  a  sur- 
prise ;  but  this  surprise  was  far  greater  than  that 
caused  by  the  appearance  of  my  cousin.  Struck 
by  the  analogy  between  this  greeting  and  the  un- 
studied attitude  which  I  had  assumed  under  the  ac- 
tion of  a  genuine  emotion,  I  cried  in  a  transport  of 
joy  which  bewildered  my  innocent  cousin :  "  Leave 
me — don't  disturb  me — I've  got  it — ^wait  for  me — 
stay  where  you  are — I've  got  it." 

"  But  what  is  it  that  you've  got  ?  " 

"  The  dickens,  papa  Dugrand  !  " 

Thereupon  I  vanished  like  a  flash,  to  run  to  my 
mirror  and  reproduce  to  my  sight  papa  Dugrand. 


EPISODE   I.  389 

Judge  of  my  astonishment :  not  only  my  gesture, 
until  now  so  persistently  awkward,  seemed  suddenly 
metamorphosed  and  became  harmonious  and  nat- 
ural ;  but,  stranger  yet,  it  did  not  correspond  in  the 
least  to  what  had  been  prescribed.  However,  it  was 
nature  herself  that  had  revealed  this  to  me.  Then, 
the  movements  of  my  body,  but  a  moment  before  so 
discordant  in  my  eyes,  had  acquired,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  this  gesture  inspired  from  above,  an  ease 
and  a  grace  that  filled  me  with  surprise.  Without 
doubt,  I  now  possessed  the  truth.  An  emotion, 
spontaneously  produced  and  so  deeply  felt,  could 
not  result  in  an  error. 

This  is  what  had  happened  under  the  action  of  a 
natural  surprise : 

My  hands  were  not  extended  toward  the  object 
of  my  surprise  —  not  the  least  in  the  world.  By  an 
anterior  extension  of  the  arms,  they  were  raised 
high  above  my  head,  which,  far  from  being  uplifted 
with  the  exultation  which  I  had  hitherto  simulated, 
was  lowered  to  my  breast ;  and  my  body,  stranger 
yet,  instead  of  bending  toward  the  attractive  object, 
bent  suddenly  backward. 

What  a  blow  nature  had  given  to  my  masters ! 
What  an  overthrowal  of  all  conjectures  !  My  rea- 
son, before  this  sovereign  decision,  was  humbled 
and  dumbfounded.  What  arguments  could  my  in- 
structors invoke  in  the  face  of  truth  itself  ? 

**  What,"  thought  I,  "  are  my  masters  absolutely 
ignorant  of  the  laws  of  nature  ?  " 


390  DELSARTE'S    OWN  WORDS. 

'*  What,  does  their  reason,  as  well  as  mine,  know 
nothing  of  all  this?  How  is  it  that  this  much- 
praised  reason  has  inspired  me  with  effects  precisely 
opposite  to  those  that  were  prescribed  ?  What  is 
reason?     Is  it,  then,  a  blind  faculty?" 

Let  us  first  see  what  these  strange  phenomena, 
whose  importance  I  cannot  deny  without  denying 
nature  herself,  signify. 

I  was  in  the  midst  of  these  reflections  when  the 
recollection  of  my  cousin  came  into  my  mind. 

**  Good  heavens,"  thought  I ;  "I  had  forgotten 
all  about  my  poor  cousin ;  what  will  he  think  ?  I 
will  hurry  down,  and,  lest  my  precious  ideas  take 
flight,  send  him  away,  and  return  to  my  reflec- 
tions. 

"  Wretch  that  I  am ;  I  think  only  how  to  get  rid 
of  him,  when  he  has  so  enriched  me !  This  is  a 
lesson  to  me.  Poor  boy !  What  opinion  will  he 
have  of  me?  Ah,  that  is  he  whom  I  see  stretched 
out  on  that  stone  bench.  He  has  been  patient,  in- 
deed.    I  believe  that  he  is  asleep !  " 

"  No,  I  am  not  asleep,"  said  he,  rising ;  "  I  am 
furious !  Explain,  if  you  are  not  too  insane  to  be 
rational,  the  extraordinary  manner  in  which  you 
received  me.  Do  you  know  that  I  have  been  wait- 
ing here  for  you  more  than  an  hour  ?  " 

**Ah,  my  dear  cousin,"  said  I,  embracing  him 
warmly,  ''you  do  not  know  what  a  service  you  have 
rendered  me.  I  embrace  you  now,  my  good  friend, 
for  the  wonderful  lesson  you  have  given  me.    With- 


EPISODE  I.  391 

out  you  I  should  never  have  found  it  out,  and,  rest 
assured,  I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  What  ?     Who  ?     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Zounds,  papa  Dugrand  !  I  freely  acknowledge 
that  I  have  learned  more  from  you  in  one  second 
than  from  all  my  masters  during  four  years." 

"Are  you  in  your  right  senses?  " 

The  matter  was  finally  explained.  My  cousin 
then  told  me  about  my  home  and  my  family ;  but  I 
must  confess  that  I  paid  little  attention  to  the  good 
news  that  he  brought  me,  so  excited  and  preoccu- 
pied was  my  mind.  Even  then  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  the  fragility  of  the  heart  in  its  affec- 
tions. We  soon  separated,  and  I  hurried  to  my 
room,  which  seemed  to  me  on  this  day  paradise 
itself. 

I  gave  myself  up  to  my  interrupted  course  of 
reflections. 

I  had  proved  the  impotence  of  my  own  reason, 
and  also  that  of  my  masters.  Now,  as  it  was  not 
probable  that  all  my  teachers  and  myself  were  more 
stupid  than  the  rest  of  mankind  —  the  common 
herd  —  I  concluded  that  reason  is  blind  in  the  mat- 
ter of  principles,  and  that  all  her  instructions  would 
be  powerless  to  guide  me  in  my  researches.  But, 
from  another  side,  it  was  evident  to  me  that  without 
this  reason  I  could  not  utilize  a  principle.  What  is 
human  reason,  that  faculty  at  once  of  so  little  avail 
and  yet  so  precious?  What  role  does  it  play  in  art? 
I  feel  that  this  is  most  important  for  me  to  know. 


392 

The  answer  to  this  question  must  spring  from  the 
study  of  the  phenomena  of  instinct.  Let  us  ex- 
amine, then,  what  nature  offers  us  freely. 

If  these  phenomena  are  directed  by  a  physiologi- 
cal or  a  spiritual  necessity,  a  necessity  on  which  in- 
stinct is  based,  I  am  forced  to  admit,  here,  a  reason 
that  is  not  my  reason ;  a  superior,  infallible  reason 
in  the  disposition  of  things ;  a  reason  that  laughs 
at  my  reason,  which,  in  spite  of  itself,  must  submit 
under  pain  of  falling  into  absurdity.  I  feel  that  it 
is  only  by  this  absolute  submission  of  my  reason 
that  it  can  rise  to  the  reason  of  things,  since,  of 
itself,  it  would  know  nothing.  [See  definition  of 
reason.] 

Let  us  seek,  then,  without  prejudice,  the  reason 
of  the  things  that  interested  me,  in  order  that  my 
own  reason  may  be  raised  to  a  higher  plane.  And 
when  it  shall  be  illumined  with  the  light  that  must 
break  upon  it  from  the  superior  reason,  I  feel  that 
my  reason  can  generalize  instruction,  and  will  be  all- 
powerful  in  arranging  the  conclusions  that  it  may 
deduce.  I  am  aware,  from  the  utter  impotence  of 
my  reason,  that  all  principles  must  be  accepted 
humbly,  in  order  to  understand  the  deductions.  My 
reason  does  not  know  how  to  lead  me  to  principles 
of  which  it  is  ignorant ;  but  it  knows  how  to  guide 
me  back.  In  other  words,  it  is  a  blind  person 
a  priori^  it  is  a  luminary  a  posteriori.  Though  it 
may  not  know  at  first,  once  shown,  it  readily  recog- 
nizes; though  it  may  not  divine,  it  learns  by  study; 


EPISODE  I.  393 

though  it  may  not  seize,   it   retains,   masters  and 
generalizes. 

Reason,  then,  is  a  reflex  power,  and  as  such,  if, 
in  a  matter  of  principle,  it  recognizes  itself  as  im- 
potent and  even  absurd  a  priori,  it  knows  that  once 
in  possession  of  the  principle,  it  borrows  from  its 
light  and  becomes  identified  with  it  —  an  incom- 
parable power  of  generalization. 

Let  the  reason  of  the  attitudes  that  I  had  ob- 
served be  once  shown  me,  and  my  individual  reason 
would  possess  the  Archimedean  lever  with  which 
I  might  open  unknown  worlds. 

My  reason  !  Ah  !  I  will  identify  it  with  the  rea- 
son of  things !  Henceforward  this  shall  be  my 
method,  this  shall  be  my  law. 

But  the  reason  of  things  —  who  will  give  it  to 
me?  Is  it  not  my  reason  itself?  Oh,  mystery! 
I  will  follow  thee  to  the  depths  of  thy  abyss.  Thou 
shalt  have  no  more  secrets  from  me,  for  God  has 
said  that  He  hides  only  from  the  wise  and  prudent 
man,  but  reveals  Himself  to  the  simple  and  to  chil- 
dren. Yes,  these  things  shall  be  given  to  me  through 
my  reason,  if  it  will  bow  itself  and  be  attentive  and 
humble ;  if  it  will  patiently  await  the  teachings  of  a 
mute  and  persevering  observation ;  if  it  will  subor- 
dinate itself  to  the  intuitive  lights  that  constitute 
genius;  and,  finally,  if  it  knows  how  to  estimate 
things  other  than  itself. 

Thus  my  reason,  established,  inflamed,  consumed 
by  the  charm  of  its  contemplation,  will  be  transfig- 


394  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

ured  in  order  to  be  more  closely  united  to  the  sov- 
ereign reason  toward  which  it  ever  reaches  out. 

The  first  fruit  of  my  observation  consists  in  mak- 
ing me  recognize,  in  the  facts  examined,  the  proof 
of  a  superior  and  infallible  reason,  and  then  to  arm 
against  my  individual  reason  and  all  its  errors.  An- 
other thing  yet  more  strange,  but  easily  compre- 
hended on  reflection,  is  that  to  this  defiance,  this 
contempt  of  self,  I  owe  the  boldness  and  the  power 
of  my  investigations. 

Let  us  see,  now,  from  which  observations  the  pre- 
ceding thoughts  are  the  direct  result. 

In  the  phrase,  "  How  are  you,  etc.,"  my  reason 
dictated  this  triple,  parallel  movement:  Advancing 
the  head,  and  the  arms,  with  the  torso  on  the  fore- 
leg. Now,  the  similar  phrase,  **  How  are  you,  dear 
cousin,"  although  uttered  in  a  situation  identical 
with  that  of  papa  Dugrand,  produced  phenomena 
diametrically  opposed  to  those  that  my  reason  had 
said  were  the  only  ones  admissible.  Is  it  not  rea- 
sonable to  suppose  that  the  sight  of  an  agreeable 
or  loved  object  will  excite  in  us  a  genuine  feeling 
that  before  we  had  vainly  striven  to  simulate?  Does 
it  not  seem  natural  to  extend  the  hand  to  a  friend 
when,  with  affectionate  surprise,  we  exclaim :  "  How 
are  you,  dear  friend  ?  "  And  should  we  ever  think 
of  drawing  the  body  away  from  the  object  that  at- 
tracts us?  Finally,  does  it  not  seem  that  the  head 
should  be  raised,  the  better  to  see  that  which 
charms  us? 


EPISODE  I.  395 

Ah,  no !  All  these  things,  apparently  so  true  and 
so  perfectly  clear,  are  radically  false.  Facts  prove 
this  beyond  a  doubt,  and  with  facts  there  can  be  on 
discussion,  no  argument.  We  must  admit  them 
a  priori  or  renounce  the  truth.  Here,  as  in  all  ques- 
tions of  principle,  the  greatest  act  of  reason  consists 
in  an  act  of  faith.     This  is  absolutely  undeniable. 

In  the  phrase,  "  How  are  you,  papa  Dugrand," 
the  arms  should  be  raised,  the  head  lowered  and 
the  torso  thrown  back,  supporting  itself  on  the  back 
leg.  This  was  indeed  a  blow  to  the  presumption 
of  my  poor  reason,  but  should  it  complain?  No, 
for  it  has  gained  even  from  its  confusion  most  fruit- 
ful instruction. 

Let  us  see.  In  questioning  the  effects  and  the 
analogy,  we  shall  doubtless  explain  their  reason  of 
being.  Why  should  the  head  become  lowered  ?  I 
do  not  see  all  at  first  sight ;  but  let  us  generalize 
the  question  and  probably  it  will  specify  itself. 

When  does  a  man  bow  his  head  before  the  object 
which  strikes  his  eye? 

When  he  considers  or  examines  it. 

Does  he  never  consider  things  with  head  raised  ? 

Yes,  when  he  considers  them  with  a  feeling  of 
pride.  It  is  thus  that  he  rules  them  or  exalts  them ; 
and  also  when  he  questions  them  with  his  glance ; 
in  fine,  when  what  he  sees  astonishes  or  surprises 
him. 

This  last  statement  contradicts  the  example  in 
question,  and  seems  to  condemn  it.     Not  the  least 


396  DELSARTE'S    OWN   WORDS. 

in  the  world.  How  is  this?  Thus:  when  the  aston- 
ishment or  the  surprise  is  not  intense  enough  to 
shake  the  frame,  the  head  wherein  all  the  surprise  is 
concentrated,  is  lifted  and  exalted.  But  so  soon  as 
that  surprise  is  great  enough  to  raise  the  shoulders 
and  the  arms,  as  by  a  galvanic  shock,  the  head  takes 
an  inverse  direction,  it  sinks  and  seems  anxious  to 
become  solid  to  offer  more  resistance  to  that  which 
might  attack  it,  for  the  first  instinctive  movement  in 
such  a  case  is  to  guard  against  any  unpleasant 
event ;  then  if  the  head  is  lifted  to  look  at  that  which 
surprises  it,  it  is  because  it  has  no  great  interest  in 
the  recognition  of  that  which  it  considers ;  but  as 
soon  as  that  interest  commands  it  to  examine,  to 
recognize,  it  is  instantly  lowered  and  placed  in  the 
state  of  expectation. 

O,  now  it  becomes  clear. 

Now,  how  does  surprise  cause  us  to  lift  our  arms  ? 

The  shoulder,  in  every  man  who  is  agitated  or 
moved,  rises  in  exact  proportion  to  the  intensity  of 
his  emotion. 

It  thus  becomes  the  thermometer  of  the  emotions. 
Now,  the  commotion  that  imprints  a  strong  impres- 
sion, communicates  to  the  arms  an  ascending  mo- 
tion which  may  lift  them  high  above  the  head. 

But  why  do  not  the  arms,  in  an  agreeable  surprise, 
tend  toward  the  object  of  that  surprise? 

The  arm  should  move  gently  toward  the  object  that 
it  wishes  to  caress.  Under  the  rapid  action  of  surprise, 
therefore,  it  could  only  injure  or  repel  that  object. 


EPISODE  I.  397 

This  it  does  in  affright. 

But  instinct — that  marvelous  agent  of  divine  rea- 
son— in  that  case  turns  the  arms  away  from  the 
object  which  they  might  injure  by  the  rapidity  of 
their  sudden  extension,  and  directs  them  toward 
heaven,  leads  them  to  rise  as  if  expressing  thanks 
for  an  unexpected  joy,  so  true  it  is  that  everything 
is  turned  to  use  and  is  modified  under  the  empire 
of  our  instinct.  Certainly,  there  is  no  similarity  be- 
tween this  and  the  superfluous  action,  the  inconse- 
quent movements  determined  by  the  working  of  a 
rule  without  a  reason.  And  this  is  so  because  in  all 
that  instinct  suggests,  it  is  the  Supreme  Artist  him- 
self who  disposes  of  us  and  acts  in  us,  while  what- 
ever is  suggested  by  a  reason  insufficiently  inspired 
by  the  contemplation  of  the  divine  handiwork  is 
fatally  incoherent,  for  we  thus  pretend  to  substitute 
ourselves  for  God,  and  God  thenceforth  leaving  us 
to  ourselves,  surrenders  us  to  all  the  discordant 
effects  of  an  incons^uential  and  vain  conception. 

It  remains  to  find  the  justificatory  reason  for  this 
retroactive  movement  of  the  body,  which  seems 
illogical  at  first  sight. 

Let  us  inquire  in  what  case  and  under  the  action 
of  what  emotions  a  man  may  shrink  from  the  object 
which  he  is  considering. 

In  the  first  place,  he  shrinks  back  whenever  it  in- 
spires him  with  a  feeling  of  repulsion.  He  shrinks 
from  it  particularly  when  it  inspires  him  with  fright. 
This  is  a  matter  of  course  and  self-evident. 


398  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

In  what  case  does  the  body  take  an  inverse  direc- 
tion to  the  object  which  attracts  it?  This  we  must 
know  before  we  can  explain  the  phenomenon  in 
question. 

We  move  away  from  the  thing  which  we  con- 
template to  prove  to  it,  doubtless,  the  respect  and 
veneration  that  it  inspires.  In  fact,  it  seems  a  lack 
of  respect  to  that  which  we  love  to  approach  it  too 
closely ;  we  move  away  that  we  may  not  profane  it 
by  a  contact  which  it  seems  might  injure  its  purity. 

Thus  the  retrograde  movement  may  be  the  sign 
of  reverence  and  salutation,  and  moreover  a  token 
that  the  object  before  which  it  is  produced  is  more 
eminent  and  more  worthy  of  veneration. 

A  salutation  without  moving  shows  but  little  rev- 
erence, and  should  only  occur  in  the  case  of  an 
equal  or  an  inferior. 

In  justification  of  the  actual  fact,  let  me  give  an- 
other observation  of  quite  another  importance. 

When  a  painter  examines  his  work,  he  moves 
away  from  it  perceptibly.  He  moves  away  in  pro- 
portion to  the  degree  of  his  admiration  of  it,  so  that 
the  retroactive  movement  of  his  body  is  in  equal 
ratio  to  the  interest  that  he  feels  in  contemplating 
his  work,  whence  it  follows  that  the  painter  who  ex- 
amines his  work  in  any  other  way,  reveals  his  indif- 
ference to  it. 

The  picture-dealer  usually  proceeds  in  quite  an- 
other manner.  He  examines  it  closely  and  with  a 
magnifying-glass  in   hand.     Why  is  this?     Because 


EPISODE  I.  399 

it  is  less  the  picture  which  he  examines  than  the 
handiwork  of  the  painter,  the  actual  work  which  is 
the  chief  object  of  his  survey. 

But  why  does  the  artist  move  away  from  the  work 
which  he  contemplates?  The  better  to  seize  the 
total  impression.  For  instance :  if  it  be  a  full  length 
portrait  and  the  artist  studies  it  too  closely  he  sees, 
I  will  suppose,  the  nose  of  his  portrait  and  nothing 
more.  If  he  moves  a  little  farther  off  he  sees  a  little 
more,  he  sees  the  head ;  still  farther  and  he  sees  both 
the  head  and  the  torso  which  supports  it.  Finally, 
moving  still  farther  away,  he  gets  a  view  of  the  whole 
and  thus  seizes  its  harmonious  relations.  This  in- 
spection may  be  called  synthetic  vision,  and  in 
opposition  to  this,  direct  vision,  which  I  assumed 
before  instinct  taught  me  better,  is  but  short  and 
limited. 

To  sum  up :  If  instinct  did  not  lead  us  to  retro- 
act,  to  examine  an  object  unexpectedly  offered  to  our 
gaze,  each  surprise  would  expose  us  to  error. 

Now  we  must  retroact  to  see  an  object  as  a  whole 
and  not  expose  ourselves  to  error,  and  then,  too, 
does  not  the  love  which  a  creature  inspires  within 
us  naturally  extend  to  the  medium  which  surrounds 
him,  and  in  this  way  does  it  not  seem  as  if  all  that 
touched  him  partook  of  his  life  and  thus  acquired 
some  title  to  our  contemplation? 

Thus  my  mind,  tortured  by  one  preoccupying 
thought,  had,  thanks  to  the  fixed  idea  which  swayed 
it,  found  wondrous  lessons  in  the  simple  incident  of 


400  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

my  cousin's  return,  otherwise  so  devoid  of  interest; 
and  I  may  truly  say  that  the  lesson  learned  from 
meeting  my  cousin  taught  me  more  than  all  those 
I  had  received  in  the  space  of  three  years.  In  short, 
I  had  learned  how  vain  is  advice  dictated  by  the 
caprice  of  a  master  without  a  system!  I  had 
learned  the  inanity  of  individual  reason  in  a  matter 
of  experience.  I  knew  that  certain  laws  existed, 
that  those  laws  proceeded  from  a  Supreme  Reason, 
an  immense  centre  of  light,  of  which  each  man's 
reason  is  but  a  single  ray.  I  knew  without  a  doubt 
how  ignorant  my  masters  were  of  those  laws  to  the 
study  of  which  I  meant  to  devote  my  life.  I  pos- 
sessed facts  which  I  saw  could  be  applied  in  count- 
less ways,  luminous  doctrines  radiating  from  the 
application. 

Thenceforth  I  had  the  nucleus  of  the  science  I 
had  so  vainly  asked  of  my  masters,  and  I  did  not 
despair  of  formulating  it. 

Judge  of  my  joy  !  The  facts  I  then  found  myself 
the  possessor  of,  seemed  to  me  more  valuable  than 
all  the  treasures  of  the  world. 


EPISODE  n. 

Some  time  later,  I  again  saw  my  worthy  cousin, 
the  innocent  cause  of  all  my  joys.  He  was  a  medi- 
cal student,  and  came  to  propose  a  visit  to  the  dis- 
secting-room. I  did  not  hesitate  to  accept;  the 
proposal  harmonized  with  my  desire. 

I  did  not  go,  as  so  many  go  to  the  morgue, 
merely  to  see  dead  bodies.  No ;  the  curiosity  that 
impelled  me,  and  the  avidity  with  which  I  pursued 
the  object  of  my  study,  was  not  to  be  so  easily  sat- 
isfied. 

Dead  bodies  only  attracted  me  when  they  were — 
if  not  dissected — at  least  flayed.  Children  break 
their  dolls  to  see  what  there  is  inside ;  so  I,  too, 
wanted  to  see  what  there  was  in  a  corpse.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  under  the  mutilations  which  the  scalpel 
had  inflicted  on  the  body,  I  should  find  the  answer 
to  more  than  one  enigma — might  solve  some  of  the 
secrets  of  life. 

The  prospect  of  this  visit  had  the  charm  of  a 
pleasure  party  to  me.  I  made  it  a  holiday  and 
awaited  the  hour  with  impatience. 

But,  on  arriving,  when  I  found  myself  in  that  place 
chill  and  gloomy  as  the  tomb ;  when  I  felt  choked 
by  the  mephitic  gases  that  arose  from  this  seat  of 
infection ;  when  I  found  myself  in  the  presence  of  a 
heap  of  corpses  mutilated  by  the  scalpel,  disfigured 
26 


402  delsarte's  own  words. 

by  putrefaction  and  partially  devoured  by  rats  and 
worms ;  when,  beneath  tables  laden  with  these  hor- 
rible remains,  I  saw  mean  tubs  filled  with  human 
entrails  mingled  with  limbs  and  heads  severed  from 
their  trunks ;  when  I  felt  fragments  of  flesh  reduced 
to  the  state  of  filthy  mud,  clinging  to  my  feet,  my 
heart  throbbed  violently,  and  I  was  overcome  by  an 
indescribable  sense  of  repulsion. 

**What,"  I  said  to  myself,  "those  shapeless  and 
putrifying  masses  have  lived  !  They  have  thought, 
they  have  loved  !  And,  who  would  believe  it  from 
the  horror  and  disgust  that  they  inspire,  they  have 
been  loved,  cherished,  perhaps  adored  !  Ah  !  if,  as 
some  think,  the  soul  is  not  immortal,  if  so  many  as- 
pirations, so  many  schemes,  so  many  hopes  are  to 
end  here— what  is  man?" 

But  yet  more  lamentable  food  for  thought  was 
reserved. for  me:  the  spectacle  of  a  ruin  yet  more 
profound  than  those  which  my  eyes  could  scarce  en- 
dure, was  to  appear  before  me  in  all  its  hideousness. 

In  fact,  there  reigns  in  these  gloomy  halls  where 
no  tear  has  ever  fallen,  no  prayer  has  ever  been 
heard  and  no  ray  of  hope  has  ever  pierced — there 
reigns  something  yet  colder  than  death,  something 
more  unwholesome,  more  nauseous,  more  delete- 
rious than  the  putrid  miasmas  that  infect  the  air, 
something  more  sad  to  see  than  the  nameless  frag- 
ments of  extinct  life,  something  more  loathsome 
than  those  filthy  and  disgusting  remnants,  something 
more  repulsive  than  those  noses  eaten  by  worms 


EPISODE  II.  403 

and  those  empty  eyeballs  devoured  by  rats.  I  mean 
the  cynicism  of  the  dwellers  in  that  place ;  I  mean 
their  insensibility,  their  indifference  and  calm  heed- 
lessness in  the  presence  of  such  grave  subjects  for 
thought.  I  mean  that  lack  of  perception,  that  spirit 
of  negation  and  revolt  of  which  those  wretched  men 
make  a  boast  and  which  they  obstinately  oppose  to 
all  religious  sentiment,  all  principle  of  tradition  or 
revealed  authority.  I  mean  the  atheism  and  cease- 
less mockery  with  which  they  invariably  meet  any 
generous  impulse  aroused  in  an  honest  soul  by  a 
healthy  faith. 

This  struck  me  even  more  sensibly  than  the  spec- 
tacle of  death  and  dissolution  which  I  have  striven 
to  describe.  Thus  the  apparently  living  men  who 
haunt  this  spot  are  more  truly  dead  than  the  corpses 
upon  which  they  exercise  their  pretended  science. 
They  seemed  to  me  ruins  far  more  terrible  than 
those  of  the  body,  ruins  which  repelled  all  hope, 
being  born  of  doubt  and  leading  to  negation. 

If  the  mutilated  and  half-devoured  bodies  that  lay 
before  me,  filled  me  with  horror  and  disgust,  they, 
at  least,  left  within  me  a  faint  lingering  hope  sur- 
viving death ;  but  the  state  of  blindness  of  those 
souls  who  have  lost  consciousness  of  their  being  and 
even  the  feeling  of  their  existence,  the  shadowy 
abyss  into  which  they  allow  themselves  complais- 
antly  to  glide,  the  nullity  which  they  adorn  with  the 
title  of  science, — all  this  filled  me  with  fright,  for  I 
felt  the  doubt  and  despair  into  which  contact  with  it 


404  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

would  inevitably  have  plunged  me,  if,  by  a  special 
favor,  the  tone  and  mimetics,  alike  self-sufficient  and 
mocking,  of  these  free-thinkers,  as  they  are  now 
styled,  had  not,  from  the  first,  inspired  me  with  aver- 
sion for  them  and  a  salutary  hatred  of  their  doc- 
trine. 

And  yet,  amidst  so  many  repulsive  objects,  the 
faculty  of  observation  to  which  I  already  owed  such 
fruitful  remarks  was  not  dormant  in  me:  I  had 
already  asked  myself  by  what  evident  sign  one  could 
recognize  a  recent  corpse. 

From  this  point  of  viev/  I  made  a  rapid  explora- 
tion, and  I  questioned  the  various  corpses  left  almost 
intact ;  I  sought  in  some  portion  of  the  body,  com- 
mon to  all,  a  form  or  a  sign  invariably  found  in  all. 

The  hand  furnished  me  that  sign  and  responded 
fully  to  my  question. 

I  noticed,  in  fact,  that  in  all  these  corpses  the 
thumb  exhibited  a  singular  attitude — that  of  adduc- 
tion or  attraction  inward,  which  I  had  never  noted 
either  in  persons  waking  or  sleeping. 

This  was  a  flash  of  Ijght  to  me.  To  be  yet  more 
sure  of  my  discovery,  I  examined  a  number  of  arms 
severed  from  the  trunk ;  they  showed  the  same  ten- 
dency. I  even  saw  hands  severed  from  the  forearm  ; 
and,  in  spite  of  this  severing  of  the  flexor  muscles, 
the  thumb  still  revealed  this  same  sign.  Such  per- 
sistence in  the  same  fact  could  not  allow  of  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt :  I  possessed  the  sign-language 
of  death,  the  semeiotics  of  the  dead. 


EPISODE  II.  405 

I  rejoiced,  foreseeing  the  service  which  this  dis- 
covery would  render  upon  a  battle-field,  for  instance, 
where  more  than  one  man  risks  being  buried  alive.  I 
divined,  moreover,  something  of  its  artistic  importance. 

I  then  questioned  my  cousin  and  the  other  students 
present  in  regard  to  the  symptomatics  of  death,  and 
I  saw  with  surprise  that,  not  only  had  the  expression 
of  this  phenomenon  escaped  them  hitherto,  but  that 
they  had  no  exact  and  precise  knowledge  concern- 
ing this  grave  and  important  question. 

There  remained,  in  order  to  complete  my  discov- 
ery and  to  deduce  useful  results  from  it,  to  verify 
the  symptom  on  the  dying  man.  It  was  important 
for  me  to  know  in  what  degree  it  might  become 
manifest  on  the  approach  of  death. 

My  wishes  were  gratified  as  if  by  magic,  for  I  was 
led  from  the  school  of  anatomy  to  that  of  clinical 
medicine.  There  a  house-student,  a  friend  of  my 
cousin,  placed  me  beside  a  dying  patient,  and  I  ex- 
amined with  the  utmost  attention  the  hands  of  the 
unhappy  man  struggling  against  the  clutches  of  in- 
evitable  death. 

At  first  I  observed  something  strange  in  regard  to 
myself,  namely  that  the  emotion  which  such  a  sight 
would  have  caused  me  under  any  other  circum- 
stances, was  absolutely  null  at  this  moment ;  close 
attention  dulled  all  feeling  in  me.  I  then  understood 
the  courage  which  may  inspire  the  surgeon  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty ;  and  I  drew  from  this  obser- 
vation deductions  of  great  artistic  interest. 


4o6  delsarte's  own  words. 

Now  I  proved  that  the  thumbs  of  the  dying  man 
contracted  at  first  in  almost  imperceptible  degree ; 
but  as  the  last  struggle  drew  near,  and  in  the  su- 
preme efforts  made  by  the  patient  to  hold  fast  to  the 
life  which  was  slipping  from  him,  I  saw  all  his  fin- 
gers convulsively  directed  toward  the  palm  of  the 
hand,  thus  hiding  the  thumbs  which  had  previously 
approached  that  centre  of  convergence.  Death 
speedily  followed  this  crisis  and  soon  restored  to  the 
fingers  a  more  normal  position ;  but  the  contraction 
of  the  thumb  persistently  conformed  to  my  previous 
observations.  The  presence  and  progress  of  this 
phenomenon  in  the  dying  was  invariably  confirmed 
by  numerous  tests  which  I  afterward  tried. 

Thus,  I  had  acquired  the  proof  that,  not  only 
does  the  total  adduction  of  the  thumb  characterize 
death,  but  that  this  phenomenon  indicates  the  ap- 
proach of  death  in  proportion  to  its  intensity.  I, 
therefore,  possessed  the  fundamental  principle  of  a 
system  of  semeiotics  hitherto  unknown  to  physiolo- 
gists ;  but  this  principle,  already  so  full  of  interest, 
must  be  made  profitable  to  art. 

A  multitude  of  pictures,  which  in  former  times  I 
had  admired  at  the  museum,  passed  before  my 
mind's  eye.  I  recalled  battle-scenes  where  the  dying 
and  the  dead  are  represented;  descents  from  the 
cross  where  Christ  is  necessarily  represented  as  dead. 
The  idea  struck  me  that  I  would  go  and  verify  the 
action  of  the  thumb  in  these  various  representations 
which  the  painter's  fancy  has  given  us  of  death. 


EPISODE  II.  407 

It  was  on  a  Sunday.  The  Louvre  was  on  my  way 
to  the  Conservatory,  where,  as  is  well  known,  I  lived 
as  pensioner. 

I  had  often  traversed  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre ; 
but  now  I  was  armed  with  a  criterion  that  would 
give  my  criticisms  indisputable  authority. 

The  ignorance  of  the  fact  I  sought,  even  among 
artists  of  renown,  was  not  long  in  being  made  appar- 
ent :  all  those  hands,  where  they  thought  they  had 
depicted  death,  afforded  me  nothing  but  the  charac- 
teristics of  a  more  or  less  peaceful  sleep.  The  cor- 
rectness of  my  criticism  may  be  verified  anywhere. 

Thus,  the  mere  discovery  of  a  law  sufficed  to 
elevate  a  poor  boy  of  fifteen  years,  destitute  of  all 
science  and  deploring  the  deep  ignorance  in  which 
he  had  hitherto  been  left,  to  the  height  of  an  infallible 
critic  in  whom  the  greatest  artists  found  no  mercy. 
I  then  understood  all  the  power,  all  the  fertility  given 
by  an  acquaintance  with  the  laws  that  regulate  the 
nature  of  man,  and  in  how  much  even  genius  itself 
may  be  rendered  sterile  by  ignorance  of  those  laws 
which  simple  observation  would  make  them  ac- 
quainted with.  But,  I  thought,  my  discovery  is  not 
complete,  for  iL  thanks  to  it,  I  have  succeeded  in 
proving  that  all  these  pictures  of  death  are  false,  true 
only  as  representing  sleep,  it  is,  on  the  other  hand, 
impossible  for  me  to  prove  in  how  far  those  figures 
live,  in  which  the  painter  aims  to  represent  life.  I 
must,  therefore,  seek  the  sign  of  life  to  complete  my 
standard  of  criticism. 


4o8  delsarte's  own  words. 

Suddenly,  struck  with  amazement  by  the  dazzling 
rays  of  unexpected  light,  I  asked  myself  whether 
the  criterion  of  death  would  not  reveal  to  me,  by  the 
law  of  contraries,  the  thermometer  of  life.  It  should 
a  priori — it  does  ! 

Still  I  felt  that  it  was  not  here  that  I  might  be  per- 
mitted to  contemplate  the  vital  phenomena  attached 
to  the  thumb :  since  death  was  so  badly  rendered 
here,  I  had  strong  reasons  for  thinking  that  life  was 
no  better  treated. 

I  left  the  museum,  then,  where  I  had  nothing 
more  to  learn ;  and,  to  observe  living  mimetics  of 
the  thumb,  I  went  out  on  the  promenade  of  the 
Tuileries  thronged  by  aristocratic  people.  I  care- 
fully examined  the  hands  of  this  crowd,  but  I  was 
not  long  in  discovering  that  these  elegant  idlers 
haci  nothing  good  to  offer.  "  This  class,"  I  said  to 
myself,  "  is  false  from  head  to  foot.  They  live  an 
artificial,  unnatural  life.  I  see  in  them  only  artifice, 
or  an  art  dishonored  by  using  it  to  mask  their  insin- 
cerity and  artificiality." 

The  happy  idea  came  to  me  to  mingle  with 
mothers,  children  and  nurses. 

"Ah,"  said  I,  "  in  the  midst  of  tl^  throng,  laugh- 
ing and  crying  at  the  same  time — singing,  shouting, 
gesticulating,  jumping,  dancing — here  is  Hfe !  If 
the  contemplation  of  this  turbulent  and  affectionate 
little  world  does  not  instruct  me,  where  shall  I  find 
the  solution  I  seek?  " 

I  did  not  have  to  wait  long  for  this  solution. 


EPISODE  II.  409 

I  noticed  nurses  who  were  distracted  and  indif- 
ferent to  the  children  under  their  charge ;  in  fliese 
the  thumb  was  invariably  drawn  toward  the  fingers, 
thus  offering  some  resemblance  to  the  adduction 
which  it  manifests  in  death.  With  other  nurses^ 
more  affectionate,  the  fingers  of  the  hand  that  held 
the  child  were  visibly  parted,  displaying  a  thumb 
bent  outward ;  but  this  eccentration  rose  to  still 
more  startling  proportion  in  those  mothers  whom 
I  saw  each  carrying  her  own  child ;  there  the  thumb 
was  bent  violently  outward,  as  if  to  embrace  and 
clasp  a  beloved  being. 

Thus  I  was  not  slow  to  recognize  that  the  con- 
traction of  the  thumb  is  inversely  proportionate,  its 
extension  directly  proportionate  to  the  affectional  ex- 
altation of  the  life.  "  No  doubt,"  I  said  to  myself, 
**  the  thumb  is  the  thermometer  of  life  in  its  extend- 
ing progression  as  it  is  of  death  in  its  contracting 
progression." 

Countless  examples  have  confirmed  this.  I  could 
even,  on  the  spot,  form  an  idea  of  the  degree  of  af- 
fection felt  for  the  children  entrusted  to  their  care, 
by  the  women  who  passed  before  my  eyes. 

Sometimes  I  would  say :  "  There  is  a  servile  crea- 
ture whose  heart  is  dead  to  that  poor  child  whom 
she  carries  like  an  inert  mass ;  the  position  of  the 
thumb  drawn  toward  the  fingers  renders  that  indif- 
ference evident."  Again  it  was  a  woman  in  whom 
the  sources  of  life  swelled  high  at  the  contact  with 
the  dear  treasure  which  she  clasped ;  that  woman 


41 0  DELSARTE'S   OWN   WORDS. 

was  surely  the  mother  of  the  child  she  carried,  the  ex- 
cessive opening  of  her  thumb  left  no  room  for  doubt. 

Thus  my  diagnostics  were  invariably  confirmed 
by  exact  information,  and  I  could  see  to  what  extent 
the  remarks  which  I  had  recorded,  were  justified.  I 
drew  from  them  most  interesting  apphcations  for 
my  special  course  of  study. 

Thus,  suppose  I  had  asked  the  same  service  from 
three  men,  and  that  each  had  answered  me  with  the 
single  word  yes,  accompanied  by  a  gesture  of  the 
hand.  If  one  of  them  had  let  his  thumb  approach 
the  forefinger,  it  is  plain  to  me  that  he  would  de- 
ceive me,  for  his  thumb  thus  placed  tells  me  that  he 
is  dead  to  my  proposition. 

If  I  observe  in  the  second  a  slight  abduction  of 
the  thumb,  I  must  beheve  that  he,  although  indis- 
posed to  obHge  me,  will  still  do  so  from  submission. 

But  if  the  third  abducts  his  thumb  forcibly  from 
the  other  fingers,  oh !  I  can  count  on  him,  he  will 
not  deceive  me !  The  abduction  of  his  thumb  tells 
me  more  in  regard  to  his  loyalty  than  all  the  assur- 
ances which  he  might  give  me. 

Behold,  then,  an  intuition  whose  correctness  the 
experience  of  forty  years  has  not  contradicted. 

It  is  hard  to  imagine  the  joy  I  felt  at  my  discov- 
ery produced  and  verified  in  a  single  day  by  so 
many  examples,  differing  so  greatly  one  from  an- 
other and  of  such  diverse  interest. 

All  the  emotions  of  this  extraordinary  and  fertile 
day  had  so  over-excited  my  imagination  that  I  had 


EPISODE   II.  411 

great  difficulty  in  calming  my  poor  brain,  and  far 
from  being  able  to  enjoy  the  rest  which  I  so  much 
needed,  I  was  a  prey  to  wakefulness  in  which  the 
turmoil  of  my  ideas  at  one  time  made  me  fear  that 
I  was  going  mad.  I  then  felt  for  the  first  time  the 
frailty  of  the  instrument  of  thought  in  regard  to 
the  faculty  which  rules  and  governs  it. 

In  brief,  I  was  —  thanks  to  my  double  discovery 
—  in  possession  of  a  law  whose  deductions  ought  to 
touch  the  loftiest  questions  of  science  and  art, — and 
I  was  enabled  thenceforth  to  affirm  upon  strong  and 
irrefragable  proof  that  the  thumb,  in  its  double 
sphere  of  action,  is  the  thermometer  of  hfe  as  well 
as  of  death. 


EPISODE   III. 

The  day  after  that  which  had  been  so  fruitful  both 
in  emotions  and  discoveries,  a  thousand  recollections 
tumultuously  besieged  my  mind  and  still  disturbed 
me.  I  saw  that  if  I  could  not  contrive  to  classify 
them  in  strict  order  of  succession,  I  should  never  be 
able  to  derive  any  practical  value  from  them.  I 
therefore  took  up  link  by  link  the  chain  of  events 
of  the  previous  day,  but  in  inverse  order.  That  is, 
I  began  my  course  where  I  left  off  the  day  before, 
and  thus  proceeded  toward  the  Tuileries  to  end  at 
the  Medical  School. 

At  the  retrospective  sight  of  all  that  merry,  noisy 
little  world,  of  all  those  fat,  cheerful  nurses,  careless 
and  laughing  as  they  were,  of  those  mothers  each  so 
tenderly  expansive  in  contemplation  of  her  child,  so 
happy  in  its  health  and  strength,  so  joyous  and  so 
proud  of  its  small  progress,  the  recollection  of  a 
phenomenon  which  I  had  not  at  first  observed  struck 
me  with  all  the  force  of  a  vivid  actuality. 

I  should  say,  by  the  way,  that  it  is  much  more  to 
the  strength  of  my  memory  than  to  the  present  ob- 
servation of  facts,  that  I  owe  these  remarks.  Sta- 
bility is  the  sine  qua  non  of  the  things  one  proposes 
to  examine,  and  the  memory  must  possess  the  sin- 
gular  power   of  communicating   fixity  to  fugitive 


EPISODE  III.  413 

things,  permanence  to  instantaneousness,  and  actu- 
ality to  the  past. 

Now,  the  phenomena  of  life  occurring  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning  can  only  be  studied  retrospect- 
ively ;  that  is  to  say,  in  the  domain  of  memory,  ex- 
cept to  be  verified  if  the  attention,  free  from  all 
other  preoccupation,  allows  us  to  seize  them  on  the 
wing  once  more.  The  remark  suggested  to  me  by 
memory  seemed  all  the  more  interesting  because  it 
formed  in  a  new  order  of  facts  a  flagrant  opposition 
to  the  opinion  formulated  by  my  masters  under  the 
title  of  theory.  Thus  nature  once  more  proved  to 
me  that  the  only  point  in  which  I  had  found  them 
to  agree,  rested  upon  a  fundamental  error.  I  have 
since  recognized  that  it  is  thus  in  the  majority  of 
cases,  so  that  one  may  almost  certainly  pronounce 
erroneous  any  statement  in  regard  to  which  all  the 
masters  of  art  agree. 

This  proposition  at  first  seems  inexplicable,  but 
its  reason  is  readily  understood  by  those  who  know 
the  sway  of  falsehood  over  a  society  perverted  in  its 
opinions  as  in  its  tastes ;  to  those  who  know  the  de- 
plorable facility  with  which  error  is  spread  and  the 
tenacity  with  which  it  clings  to  our  poor  mind. 
Error,  moreover,  owes  to  our  abasement  which  it 
flatters  and  crushes,  the  privilege  of  freedom  from 
contradiction,  and  it  is  only  in  regard  to  truth  that 
the  minds  of  men  are  divided  and  contend. 

On  retracing  in  my  memory  the  walks  I  had  taken 
in  the  Tuileries,  I  was  struck  by  an  important  fact 


414  delsarte's  own  words. 

amidst  the  phenomena  called  up :  the  voice  of  the 
nurse  or  mother,  when  she  caressed  her  child,  inva- 
riably assumed  the  double  character  of  tenuity  and 
acuteness.  It  was  in  a  voice  equally  sweet  and 
high-pitched  that  she  uttered  such  words  as  these : 
"  How  lovely  he  is ! "  .  .  .  **  Smile  a  little  bit  for 
mamma  !  "  Now  this  caressing  intonation,  impressed 
by  nature  upon  the  upper  notes  of  all  these  voices, 
forms  a  strange  contrast  to  the  direction  which  all 
singing-teachers  agree  in  formulating;  a  direction 
which  consists  in  augmenting  the  intensity  of  the 
sound  in  direct  ratio  to  its  acuteness.  Thus,  to 
them,  strange  to  say,  the  entire  law  of  vocal  shades 
would  consist  in  augmenting  progressively  the  sound 
of  the  ascending  phrase  or  scale,  and  diminishing  in 
the  same  proportion  for  a  descending  scale.  Now, 
nature,  by  a  thousand  irrefutable  examples,  directs 
us  to  do  the  contrary,  that  is,  she  prescribes  a  de- 
crease of  intensity  (in  music,  decrescendd)  propor- 
tionate to  the  ascensional  force  of  the  sounds. 

Another  blow,  I  thought,  for  my  masters,  or 
rather  I  receive  it  for  them,  for  they,  poor  fellows, 
do  not  feel  it.  But  how  can  these  phenomena  of 
nature  have  escaped  them,  and  by  what  indescrib- 
able aberration  can  they  direct,  under  the  name  of 
law,  a  process  absolutely  contrary  to  that  so  plainly 
followed  by  those  same  phenomena?  However,  I 
added,  every  supreme  error  under  penalty  of  being 
self-evident,  must,  to  endure,  necessarily  rest  upon 
some  truth  or  other.     Now,  on  what  truth  do  so 


EPISODE  III.  415 

many  masters  claim  to  base  so  manifest  an  error? 
This  is  what  we  must  discover. 

I  was  now  convinced  that  caressing,  tender  and 
gentle  emotions  find  their  normal  expression  in  high 
notes.  This  is  beyond  all  doubt.  Thus,  according 
to  the  foregoing  examples,  if  we  propose  to  say  to 
a  child  in  a  caressing  tone  that  he  is  a  darling,  it 
would  clearly  be  very  bad  taste  to  bellow  the  words 
at  him  on  the  pretext  that,  according  to  singing- 
teachers,  the  intensity  of  the  sound  is  augmented  in 
direct  ratio  to  its  acuteness. 

But  my  memory,  as  if  to  confirm  this  principle, 
and  to  show  its  contrast  with  the  custom  admitted 
by  those  gentlemen,  suggests  to  me  other  instances 
derived  from  the  same  source.  Let  a  mother  be 
angry  with  her  child  and  threaten  him  with  pun- 
ishment; she  instantly  assumes  a  grave  tone  which 
she  strives  to  render  powerful  and  intense.  Here, 
then,  on  the  one  hand  (and  nature  proclaims  it),  the 
voice  decreases  in  intensity  in  proportion  as  it  rises 
higher;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  increases  in  pro- 
portion as  it  sinks.  This  double  fact,  undeniably 
established,  constitutes  an  unanswerable  argument 
against  the  system  in  question.  But  it  is  not,  there- 
fore, necessarily  its  radical  and  absolute  refutation. 
No,  doubtless,  whatever  may  be  the  significance  and 
the  number  of  the  facts  opposed  to  the  directions 
of  those  gentlemen,  these  facts  do  not  seem  to  ex- 
clude exceptions  upon  which  they  may  be  founded. 
In  fact,  I  find  in  my  memory  many  examples  favor- 


4i6  delsarte's  own  words. 

able  to  those  masters.  Thus,  I  have  seen  many 
nurses  lose  their  temper  and  still  use  the  higher 
tones  of  their  voice ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  I  also 
remark  (and  the  remark  is  important)  a  certain  form, 
the  appellative  form,  where  all  the  characters  agree 
without  exception  in  producing  the  greatest  inten- 
sity possible  upon  the  high  notes. 

The  professors  of  singing  triumph,  for  they  find 
in  this  appellative  form,  always  and  necessarily 
sharp  and  boisterous  at  the  same  time,  a  striking 
confirmation  of  their  system.  Here  I  seem  to  stray 
far  from  the  solution  which  I  thought  I  already 
grasped !  Far  from  it ;  the  light  is  breaking. 
Hitherto  the  examples  evoked  had  only  increased 
my  obscurity  by  their  multiplicity,  and  I  saw  noth- 
ing in  all  these  remarks  but  a  series  of  contradic- 
tions whence  it  seemed  impossible  to  deduce  any- 
thing but  confusion,  into  which  I  found  myself 
plunged. 

But  was  this  confusion  really  in  the  facts  which  I 
examined,  or  was  it  not  rather  the  creation  of  my 
own  mind?  Now,  in  the  matter  of  principle,  the 
weakness  of  individual  reason  has  been  too  often 
proved  to  me  to  allow  of  my  attaching  any  other 
cause  to  the  contradictions  which  block  my  path 
and  force  me  to  confess  my  ignorance.  I  will  not, 
then,  here  cry  77tea  culpa  for  myself  or  for  others  to 
justify  that  ignorance  or  excuse  its  confession.  It 
must  be  acknowledged  that  God  knows  what  He 
does,  and  His  omnipotence  is  assuredly  guiltless  of 


EPISODE  III.  417 

the  divagations  which  an  impotent  mind  finds  it 
convenient  to  attribute  to  it. 

Now,  let  others  in  the  bhndness  of  proud  reason, 
forget  this  truth,  which  they  contest  even  by  oppos- 
ing to  it  the  quibbles  for  which  free-thinkers  are 
never  at  a  loss,  and  to  escape  the  confusion  which 
they  inevitably  derive  from  the  ill-studied  work  of 
the  Supreme  Artist.  Let  them  venture  to  attribute 
to  it  their  own  darkness.  For  my  part,  I  shall  not 
thereby  lose  my  conviction  that  all  which  seems  to  me 
disordered  or  contradictory  in  the  expression  of  the 
facts  which  I  question,  is  only  apparent  and  only 
exist  in  my  own  brain. 

The  profound  obscurity  into  which  light  plunges 
us  does  not  prevent  the  light  from  being;  and  the 
chaos  of  ideas  which,  most  generally,  results  from 
our  examination  of  things,  proves  nothing  against 
the  harmonies  of  their  constitution. 

The  pebble  virtually  contains  the  spark,  but  we 
must  know  how  to  produce  it.  Thus  the  phenom- 
ena of  nature  contain  luminous  lessons,  but  we  must 
know  how  to  make  them  speak ;  and,  what  is  more, 
understand  their  language.  Now,  I  would  add,  the 
spirit  of  God  is  inherent  in  all  things;  and  this 
spirit  should,  at  a  given  moment,  flash  its  splendors 
in  the  eyes  of  an  intellect  alike  submissive,  atten- 
tive, patient  and  suppliant. 

Moreover,  does  not  the  Gospel  show  us  the  way 
to  fertilize  investigations  such  as  those  to  which  I 
have  given  my  life?  Does  it  not  say:  "  Knock  and 
27 


41 8  delsarte's  own  words. 

it  shall  be  opened,  ask  and  it  shall  be  given  ? " 
Then  what  must  I  do  to  find  my  Vay  out  of  the 
maze  in  which  my  reason  wanders?  What  must  I 
do  in  presence  of  the  contradictions  which  neverthe- 
less must  needs  contain  a  fecund  principle?  Finally, 
what  must  I  do  in  order  to  see  light  break  from  the 
very  heart  of  those  obscurities  wherein  light  is 
lost? 

I  will  seek  anew,  night  and  day,  if  needful ;  I  will 
knock  incessantly  at  the  door  of  the  facts  which  I 
desire  to  examine.  I  will  descend  into  the  secret 
depths  of  their  organism;  there  I  will  patiently 
question  every  phenomenon,  every  organ,  and  I  will 
entreat  their  Author  to  divulge  to  me  their  purpose, 
their  relations  and  their  very  object. 

Well !  It  is  thus  that  those  men,  proud  of  their 
vain  knowledge,  were  made  dizzy  by  the  splendor 
of  that  same  light  which  they  thought  that  they 
could  subject  to  their  investigations,  and  the  blind- 
ness which  has  fallen  upon  them  is  the  punishment 
which  God  is  content  to  inflict  upon  them  in  this 
world. 

Having  said  this,  where  was  I  in  my  investiga- 
tions?    Ah!   it  was  here. 

The  memory  of  the  high  inflections  invariably 
affected  by  the  women  whom  I  had  seen  on  the  pre- 
vious day,  caressing  their  infants,  struck  me  with  the 
more  force  that  I  had  learned  from  my  masters  that 
law  which  had  hitherto  ruled  uncontested,  and  now 
undenvent   a   refutation   which    demonstrated    the 


EPISODE  III.  419 

falsity  of  its  applications  with  a  clearness  and  mi- 
nuteness which*  left  no  room  for  doubt. 

The  examples  in  virtue  of  which  I  saw  the  errors 
of  my  masters,  unanimously  proclaimed  the  tenuity 
of  the  voice  to  be  in  proportion  to  its  acuteness. 

Now  this  formula  is,  in  letter  as  in  spirit,  the  re- 
verse of  the  prescription  upon  which,  by  a  caprice 
whose  cause  I  have  just  explained,  all  the  masters 
of  art  agree. 

I  then  perceived  that  my  first  affirmations  were 
no  better  founded  than  those  of  the  masters,  whose 
theories  I  had  attacked.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is 
that  ascending  progressions  may  arise  from  opposite 
shades  of  meaning.  "Therefore,"  said  I  to  myself,  **  it 
is  equally  inadmissible  to  exclude  either  affirmation." 

The  law  is  necessarily  complex :  let  us  bring  to- 
gether, that  we  may  seize  them  as  a  whole,  both  the 
contrary  expressions  and  the  circumstances  which 
produce  them. 

Vulgar  and  uncultured  people,  as  well  as  children, 
seem  to  act  in  regard  to  an  ascensional  vocal  pro- 
gression in  an  inverse  sense  to  well-educated,  or,  at 
any  rate,  affectionate  persons,  such  as  mothers,  fond 
nurses,  etc. 

No  example  has,  to  my  knowledge,  contradicted 
this  remark.. 

But  why  this  difference?  What  are  its  motive 
causes  ? 

"  Ha !  "  I  cried,  as  if  struck  by  lightning,  *'  I've 
found  the  law !    As  with  the  movements  of  the  head, 


420  DELSARTE'S    OWN   WORDS. 

sensuality  and  tendernesSy  these  shades  of  the  voice 
may  be  traced  back  to  two  distinct  sources :  senti- 
ment 3iwd passion.  It  is  sentiment  which  I  have  seen 
revealed  in  mothers ;  it  is  passion  which  we  find  in 
uncultured  persons." 

Sentiment  and  passion,  then,  proceed  in  an  in- 
verse way.  Passion  strengthens  the  voice  in  pro- 
portion as  it  rises,  and  sentiment,  on  the  contrary, 
softens  it  in  due  ratio  to  its  intensity.  It  was  the 
confusion  of  these  different  sources  which  caused  a 
momentary  obscurity  in  my  understanding. 

Let  us  now  formulate  boldly  the  law  of  vocal 
proportions. 

Given  a  rising  form,  such  as  the  ascending  scale, 
there  will  be  intensitive  progression  when  this  form 
should  express  passion  (whether  impulse,  excite- 
ment or  vehemence). 

There  will  be,  on  the  other  hand,  a  diminution  of 
intensity  where  this  same  form  should  express 
sentiment. 

This  law  even  seems  regulated  by  a  quantitative 
expression,  the  form  of  which  appeared  to  me  like 
a  flash  of  light.     This  is  the  formula : 

Under  the  influence  of  sentiment  the  smallest  and 
most  insignificant  things  that  we  may  wish  to  repre- 
sent proportion  themselves  to  the  degree  of  acute- 
ness  of  the  sounds,  which  become  softened  in  pro- 
portion as  they  rise. 

Under  the  influence  of  passion,  on  the  contrary, 
the  voice  rises,  with  a  corresponding  brilliancy,  in 


EPISODE   III.  421 

proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  thing  it  would 
express,  and  becomes  lowered  to  express  smallness 
or  meanness.  Thus  an  ascending  scale  being  given, 
it  must  be  considered  as  a  double  scale  of  propor- 
tion, agreeing  alternately  with  an  increasing  or  de- 
creasing intensitive  progression,  increasing  under  the 
influence  of  passion  and  decreasing  under  the  influ- 
ence of  sentiment. 

Thus  we  would  not  use  the  same  tones  for  the 
words:  "  Oh,  what  a  pretty  Jittle  girl!  "  "What  a 
lovely  little  flower  !  "  and  :  "  See  that  nice,  fat  peas- 
ant woman  !  "     *•  What  a  comfortable  great  house  !  " 

By  such  formulae  as  these  I  was  able  to  sum  up, 
in  clear  and  didactic  form,  the  multifarious  examples 
suggested  by  my  memory,  startled  at  first  by  their 
contradiction  and  then  delighted  at  the  light  thrown 
upon^them  by  these  very  formulae,  due,  not  to  my 
own  merit,  but  to  the  favor  of  Him  who  holds  in 
His  hand  the  source  of  all  truth. 

Thus,  I  feel  and  readily  acknowledge,  that  the  dis- 
covery upon  which  I  am  at  work  is  not  my  own 
work;  and,  therefore,  I  pray  for  it  as  for  a  signal 
favor.  Nor  can  it  be  otherwise  with  any  man.  It 
is,  therefore,  always  an  impertinence  for  any  man  to 
attribute  to  his  personal  genius,  vast  as  he  may  sup- 
pose it  to  be,  the  discovery  of  any  law.  God  alone 
discloses  His  treasures,  and,  as  I  have  experienced, 
He  only  reveals  them  to  the  eye  of  reason  raised  by 
humihty  to  contemplation. 

Man  seeks  that  which  he  desires  to  know  with  at- 


422  delsarte's  own  words/ 

tention  and  patience  proportioned  to  the  ardor  of 
his  desire.  The  attention  of  which  his  mind  is  ca- 
pable and  the  constancy  of  will  brought  to  bear  in 
pursuit  of  his  research,  constitute  his  only  mark  of 
distinction.  Herein  lies  all  the  merit  to  which  he 
can  lay  just  claim.  But  at  a  moment  absolutely 
unforeseen,  God  reveals  to  him  that  which  he  seeks, 
I  should  say  that  for  which  he  does  not  seek,  and 
for  his  due  edification  it  is  generally  the  opposite 
of  what  he  seeks  which  is  revealed  to  him.  This  is 
not  to  be  contested.  Thus  the  things  discovered  to 
him  cause  him  such  surprise  that  he  never  fails  to 
beat  his  brow  when  he  sees  them,  as  if  to  prove  that 
he  is  not  the  author  of  their  discovery,  and  that  he 
was  far  from  foreseeing  anything  like  what  has  been 
shown  to  him ;  and  that  there  may  be  no  possible 
mistake  in  the  interpretation  of  the  gesture,  he  in- 
variably accompanies  it  by  the  phrase :  *'  What  a 
fool  I  am ! "  All  will  admit  that  if  a  man  really 
believed  himself  the  author  of  his  discovery,  he 
takes  a  very  inopportune  time  to  declare  his  impo- 
tence and  his  stupidity  so  distinctly.  But  taking 
none  too  kindly  his  avowal  which,  moreover,  is  but 
the  proclamation  of  an  indisputable  truth,  let  us 
rather  say  that  this  act  of  humility  is  forced  from 
him  by  the  greatness  of  his  surprise. 

Happy,  very  happy  is  the  man  whose  pride  does 
not  instantly  react  against  the  humble  and  truthful 
confession  of  his  folly. 

Ever  since  I  made  these  remarks   I   have   asked 


EPISODE  III.  423 

myself  the  cause  of  the  sterihty  of  the  learned  bodies, 
and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  to-day,  that  it  is  because 
scientists  refuse  to  declare  themselves  fools,  and  it 
is  to  this  lack  of  sincerity  that  they  doubtless  owe 
the  punishment  that  paralyzes  their  genius. 

How  can  these  men  fail  to  take  seriously  the  little 
knowledge  to  which  they  cling  and  their  fortune  and 
renown ;  how  can  these  wise  men,  to  whom  the 
world  pays  incessant  homage,  consent  meekly  to 
confess  the  infirmity  of  their  reason?  They  feign, 
on  the  contrary,  even  when  crushed  beneath  the 
Divine  splendor,  an  air  of  great  importance ;  and 
when  the  Omnipotent  in  His  mercy  deigns  to  bend 
to  their  low  level,  to  lay  open  to  them  the  treasures 
of  His  sovereign  thought,  do  you  think  that  in  token 
of  the  sacred  and  respectful  admiration  which  they 
owe  in  return  for  such  goodness,  they  will  prostrate 
themselves  like  the  Seraphim  whose  knowledge 
assuredly  equals  the  few  notions  which  they  adorn 
with  that  title  ?  Ah  !  far  from  it.  You  little  know 
these  scientists,  when  you  impute  to  them  an  act 
which  they  would  qualify  as  contemptible  and  would 
declare  unworthy  of  a  free-thinker!  They  stand 
erect,  on  the  contrary,  with  head  held  high,  inso- 
lently laying  claim,  by  virtue  of  I  know  not  what 
conquest  of  the  human  mind,  to  judge  the  eternal 
and  immovable  light  of  the  Divine  Reason. 


EPISODE  IV. 

My  retrospective  journey  from  this  point  of  de- 
parture seemed  destined  to  be  even  more  full  of 
observations  than  that  which  preceded  it.  My  day 
had  been  so  full  of  work,  so  fruitful  in  unexpected 
discoveries,  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  me 
to  stop  at  this  first  station. 

After  a  few  days  of  rest  I  naturally  resumed  my 
walk  toward  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  whither  I 
was  led  by  an  instinct  full  of  promise.  There,  in 
fact,  fresh  re-appearances  were  not  long  in  adding 
light  to  that  with  which  I  was  still  dazzled ! 

I  remember  that  I  had  been  vaguely  struck  by 
the  contemplative  attitude  of  a  mother  toward  her 
child.  The  reason  why  this  attitude  struck  me  even 
in  the  midst  of  my  absorption  in  search  of  notes 
relative  to  the  thumb,  was,  first,  because  this  attitude 
was  a  contrast  to  that  assumed  by  most  of  the 
nurses  under  the  action  of  the  same  feeling ;  and, 
in  the  next  place,  it  seemed  to  deny  the  contempla- 
tive forms  which  I  had  deduced  from  my  first  dis- 
covery, and  which  rested  upon  such  motives  as  the 
following:  That  a  painter  admires  his  work  by 
throwing  back  his  head.  Hitherto  it  had  seemed  to 
me  clearly  proven  that  admiring  contemplation  en- 
tailed this  retroaction.     I  considered  this,  it  will  be 


EPISODE  IV.  425 

remembered,  the  characteristic  feature  of  a  law,  and 
that  for  the  reasons  which  I  had  previously  given. 
Well !  were  all  these  reasons,  plausible  as  they  ap- 
peared, to  be  contradicted  by  a  single  fact  still  pres- 
ent to  my  memory,  in  spite  of  the  observations  in 
the  midst  of  which  it  arose,  and  which,  moreover, 
should  have  been  more  than  enough  to  efface  it? 
Strange  to  say,  this  fact  vaguely  noted  amidst  pre- 
occupations to  which  it  seemed  absolutely  foreign, 
had  remained  persistently  in  my  mind  !  Now  this 
fact,  becoming  by  a  reflex  act  the  object  of  serious 
thought,  resulted  from  this  observation : 

That  a  woman,  as  she  contemplated  her  child, 
bent  her  head  toward  it. 

Searching  in  my  memory,  I  found  several  similar 
instances  completely  confirming  this  principle,  op- 
posed to  my  observations,  that  contemplation  tends 
to  push  the  head  toward  the  object  contemplated. 

And  yet  this  example  does  not  affect  those  to 
which  I  had  at  first  paid  exclusive  heed.  Here,  as 
in  the  preceding  remarks,  the  law  is  complex,  and  it 
must  first  be  recognized  that  contemplation  or  simple 
admiration  is  produced  alike  by  the  retreat  or  ad- 
vance of  the  head.  This  double  action  being  ad- 
mitted, it  remained  to  decide  how  far  they  might  be 
mingled  in  a  single  situation  ;  that  is  to  say,  to  what 
point  these  two  inverse  inclinations  might  be  pro- 
duced indifferently ;  and  if,  as  I  must  a  priori  sup- 
pose, these  inclinations  recognized  two  distinct 
causes.      If    so,   what   were    those    reasons?     The 


426  delsarte's  own  words. 

question  was  not  easy  of  solution,  and  yet  it  must 
be  decided  definitely.  I  could  enjoy  no  peace  until 
I  had  answered  it.  The  doubt  instilled  into  my 
mind  by  this  new  contradiction  was  intolerable.  I 
set  boldly  to  work,  determined  not  to  pause  until  I 
had  found  a  final  solution.  I  called  to  mind  all  my 
memories  having  any  bearing  on  this  double  phe- 
nomenon. These  memories  were  far  more  numer- 
ous and  far  more  striking  than  I  had  dared  to  hope. 
What  a  magnificent  thing  are  those  mysterious  res- 
ervoirs whence,  at  a  given  moment,  flow  thousands 
of  pictures  which  until  then  we  knew  not  that  we 
possessed?  A  whole  world  of  prostrate  believers 
adoringly  turning  their  heads  toward  the  object  of 
their  worship,  appeared  before  me  to  support  the 
example  afforded  me  by  the  mother  lovingly  bend- 
ing her  head  toward  the  child  at  which  she  gazed. 

Among  other  instances,  I  saw  a  venerable  master 
affectionately  bending  his  head  toward  the  being  to 
whom  he  thus  seemed  with  touching  predilection  to 
give  luminous  instructions. 

I  saw  lovers  gazing  at  their  loved  one  with  this 
attractive  pose  of  the  head,  their  tenderness  seeming 
thus  to  be  eloquently  affirmed.  But,  side  by  side 
with  these  examples,  I  saw  others  totally  opposite ; 
thus,  other  lovers  presented  themselves  to  my  mind's 
eye  with  very  different  aspect,  and  their  number 
seemed  far  greater  than  that  of  the  other.  These 
lovers  delighted  to  gaze  at  their  sweetheart  as  paint- 
ers study  their  work,  with  head  thrown  back.     I  saw 


EPISODE  IV.  427 

mothers  and  many  nurses  gazing  at  children  with 
this  same  retroactive  movement  which  stamped  their 
gaze  with  a  certain  expression  of  satisfied  pride, 
generally  to  be  noted  in  those  who  carried  a  nursling 
distinguished  for  its  beauty  or  the  elegance  of  its 
clothes. 

Two  words,  as  important  as  they  are  opposite  in 
the  sense  that  they  determine,  are  disengaged :  sen- 
suality and  tenderness. 

Such  are  the  sources  to  which  we  must  refer  the 
attitudes  assumed  by  the  head  on  sight  of  the  object 
considered. 

Between  these  inverse  attitudes  a  third  should 
naturally  be  placed.  It  was  easy  for  me  to  charac- 
terize this  latter :    I  called  it  colorless  or  indifferent. 

It  is  entirely  natural  that  the  man  who  considers 
an  object  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  mere  exam- 
ination which  his  mind  makes  of  it,  should  simply 
look  it  in  the  face  until  that  object  had  aroused  the 
innermost  movements  of  the  soul  or  of  the  life. 

Whence  it  invariably  follows  that  from  the  incite- 
ment of  these  movements,  the  head  is  bent  to  the 
side  of  the  soul  or  to  the  side  of  the  senses. 

"  Which  is,  then,  for  the  head,  the  side  of  the 
soul,"  you  will  ask  me,  **  and  which  the  side  of  the 
senses?  " 

I  will  reply  simply,  to  cut  short  the  useless  de- 
scription of  the  many  drawbacks  that  preceded  the 
clear  demonstration  that  I  finally  established,  that 
the  side  of  the  heart  is  the  objective  side  that  occu- 


428    .  DELSARTE'S    OWN   WORDS. 

pies  the  interlocutor,  and  that  the  side  of  the  senses 
is  the  subjective,  personal  side  toward  which  the 
head  retroacts ;  that  is  to  say,  the  side  opposed  to 
the  object  under  examination.  Thus,  when  the  head 
moves  in  an  inverse  direction  from  the  object  that  it 
examines,  it  is  from  a  selfish  standpoint;  and  when 
the  examiner  bends  toward  the  object  it  is  in  con- 
tempt of  self  that  the  object  is  viewed. 

These  are  the  two  related  looks  that  I  have  named 
Sensuality  and  Tenderness,  for  these  reasons : 

The  former  of  these  glances  is  addressed  exclu- 
sively to  the  form  of  its  object ;  it  caresses  the  pe- 
riphery of  it,  and,  the  better  to  appreciate  its  totality, 
moves  away  from  it.  This  is  what  occurs  in  the 
retroactive  attitude  of  the  head. 

The  other  look,  on  the  contrary,  aims  at  the  heart 
of  things  without  pausing  on  the  surface,  disdaining 
all  that  is  external.  It  strives  to  penetrate  the  ob- 
ject to  its  very  essence,  as  if  to  unite  itself  more 
closely  within  it ;  it  has  the  expression  of  confidence, 
of  faith — in  a  word,  the  giving  up  of  self. 

Thus,  when  a  man  presses  a  woman's  hand,  we 
may  affirm  one  of  three  things  from  the  attitude 
which  his  head  assumes : 

1 .  That  he  does  not  love  her,  if  his  head  remains 
straight  or  simply  bent  in  facing  her. 

2.  That  he  loves  her  tenderly,  if  he  bows  his  head 
obliquely  toward  her. 

3.  Finally,  that  he  loves  her  sensually — that  is  to 
say,  solely  for  her  physical  qualities — if,  on  looking 


EPISODE  IV.  429 

at  her,  he  moves  his  head  toward  the  shoulder  which 
is  opposite  her. 

Such  are,  in  brief,  the  three  attitudes  of  the  head 
and  the  eyes,  which  I  have  named  colorlesSy  affec- 
tionate sensual. 

Henceforth  I  possessed  completely  the  law  of  the 
inclinations  of  the  head,  a  law  which  derives  from  its 
very  complexity  the  fertility  of  its  appHcations. 


EPISODE  V. 

SEMEIOTICS   OF  THE    SHOULDER. 

When  I  found  myself  the  possessor  of  this  law 
whose  triple  formula  is  of  a  nature  to  defy  every 
objection,  I  sought  to  appropriate  to  myself,  before 
the  mirror,  all  its  applications. 

But  there  arose  yet  another  difficulty  that  I  had 
not  foreseen. 

I,  indeed,  reproduced,  and  at  the  proper  time,  the 
movements  of  the  head  already  described,  but  they 
remained  awkward  and  lifeless. 

What  was  the  cause  of  this  awkwardness  and  cold- 
ness of  which  I  was  well  aware,  but  which  I  could 
not  help?  I  strove  unceasingly  to  reproduce  the 
examples  that  lived  so  vividly  in  my  memory,  but 
all  these  laborious  reproductions,  these  efforts  from 
memory,  were  futile.  The  stubbornness  of  an  in- 
domitable will,  however,  led  only  to  a  negative  re- 
sult. I  was  vexed  at  an  awkwardness  the  reason  of 
which  I  could  not  find. 

One  day,  almost  discouraged  by  the  lack  of  suc- 
cess in  my  researches,  I  sorrowfully  said  to  myself: 
"What  shall  I  do?  Alas!  the  more  I  labor,  the 
less  clearly  I  see ;  am  I  incapable  of  reproducing 
nature — is  the  difficulty  that  holds  me  back  in- 
vincible ?  " 


EPISODE  V.  431 

As  I  uttered  the  preceding  words,  I  noticed  that, 
under  the  sway  of  the  grief  which  dictated  them,  my 
shoulders  were  strangely  lifted  up,  apd,  as  then  I 
found  myself  in  the  attitude  which  I  had  previously 
tried  to  render  natural,  the  unexpected  movement 
of  my  shoulders,  joined  to  that  attitude,  suddenly 
impressed  it  with  an  expression  of  life  so  just,  so 
true,  so  surprising,  that  I  was  overwhelmed. 

Thus  I  gained  possession  of  an  aesthetic  fact  of 
the  first  rank,  and  I  was  as  amazed  at  my  discovery 
as  I  was  surprised  that  I  had  not  observed  sooner  a 
self-evident  movement,  whose  powerful  and  expres- 
sive character  seems  fundamentally  connected  with 
the  actions  of  the  head.  "  How  stupid  I  am,"  I 
thought,  *'  not  to  have  remarked  so  evident  an  ac- 
tion of  an  agent  which  leads  the  head  itself.  How 
could  I  let  this  movement  of  the  shoulder  escape 
me !  "  And  I  revelled  in  the  pleasurable  triumph 
of  reproducing  and  contemplating  expressions  which 
I  could  not  have  rendered  previously  without  dis- 
honoring them.  Thenceforth  I  understood  without 
a  doubt  all  the  importance  of  this  latest  discovery. 
But  this  importance,  clearly  proven  as  it  was,  was 
not  yet  fully  explained  to  me. 

Thus,  I  knew  henceforth  the  necessity  for  move- 
ments of  the  shoulder,  but  I  was  still  ignorant  of 
their  motive  cause ;  and  I  was  reluctant  to  be  longer 
ignorant.  I  foresaw  a  concomitance  of  relations 
between  this  movement  of  the  shoulder  and  the  ex- 
pression of  the  head. 


432  delsarte's  own  words. 

The  shoulder,  then,  became,  in  its  turn,  the  chief 
object  of  my  studies,  and  I  gained  therefrom  clear 
and  indisputable  principles. 

In  this  way  I  managed  to  form  the  bases  of  my 
discovery.  The  mothers  whom  I  had  seen  bending 
their  heads  over  the  children  on  whom  they  gazed, 
thus  revealed  something  unreserved  and  touching; 
and  in  my  ignorance  the  important  part  which  the 
shoulder  played  in  the  attitude  had  escaped  me.  It 
was  indeed  from  the  action  of  the  shoulder,  even 
more  than  from  the  inclination  of  the  head,  that  this 
expression  of  tenderness,  so  touching  to  behold, 
proceeded. 

The  head,  in  such  a  case,  accordingly  receives  its 
greatest  sum  of  expression  from  the  shoulder.  That 
is  a  fact  to  be  noted. 

For  instance,  let  a  head — however  loving  we  may 
suppose  it  to  be  intrinsically — bend  toward  the  ob- 
ject of  its  contemplation,  and  let  the  shoulder  not  be 
lifted,  that  head  will  plainly  lack  an  air  of  vitality 
and  warm  sincerity  without  which  it  cannot  persuade 
us  It  will  lack  that  irresistible  character  of  inten- 
sity which,  in  itself,  supposes  love ;  in  brief,  it  will 
be  lacking  in  love. 

"  Then,"  I  said, ''  I  have  found  in  the  shoulder  the 
agent,  the  centre  of  the  manifestations  of  love." 

Yes,  if  in  pressing  a  friend's  hand  I  raise  my 
shoulders,  I  shall  thereby  eloquently  demonstrate  all 
the  affection  with  which  he  inspires  me. 

If  in  looking  at  a  woman  I  clasp  my  hands  and  at 


EPISODE  T.  433 

the  same  time  raise  my  shoulders,  there  is  no  longer 
any  doubt  as  to  the  feeling  that  attaches  me  to  her, 
and  instinctively  every  one  will  say:  "  He  loves  her 
truly ;  "  but  if,  preserving  the  same  attitude  in  the 
same  situation,  the  same  facial  expression,  the  same 
movement  of  the  head,  I  happen  to  withhold  the  ac- 
tion of  the  shoulder,  instantly  all  love  will  disappear 
from  my  expression  and  nothing  will  be  left  to  that 
attitude  but  a  sentiment  vague  and  cold  as  false- 
hood. 

Once  more,  then,  the  inclinations  of  the  head 
whose  law  I  have  previously  determined,  seem  to 
owe  to  the  shoulder  alone  the  affectionate  meaning 
that  they  express ;  but  the  head — as  I  have  said, — 
in  its  double  inclination,  characterizes  two  kinds  of 
love  (or  rather  two  sources  of  love)  which  are  not 
to  be  confounded :  sensuality  and  tenderness. 

What  part,  then,  does  the  shoulder  play  in  regard 
to  this  distinction  ?  It  will  be  curious  to  determine 
this  point.     Let  us  see  ! 

The  part  played  by  the  shoulder  is  considerable 
in  tenderness ;  that  is  not  to  be  doubted.  But  its 
role  seems  to  be  less  in  sensuality.  Thus  the  shoul- 
der generally  rises  less  when  the  head  retroacts  than 
when  it  advances  toward  the  object  of  its  contem- 
plation. Why  is  this  ?  Is  it  because  sensuality  per- 
tains less  to  love  than  tenderness?  Has  it  not  the 
same  title  to  rank  as  one  of  the  aspects  of  love?  In 
a  word,  why  is  less  demand  made  upon  the  shoulder 
in  one  instance  than  in  the  other? 
28 


434  •  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

If  I  do  not  mistake,  the  reason  is  this  :  love  gives 
more  than  it  lays  claim  to  receive,  while  sensuality- 
asks  continually  and  seeks  merely  the  possession  of 
its  object.  Love  understands  and  loves  sacrifice; 
it  pervades  the  whole  being ;  it  inspires  it  to  bestow 
its  entire  self,  and  that  gift  admits  of  no  reserve. 

Sensuality,  on  the  contrary,  is  essentially  selfish ; 
far  from  giving  itself,  it  pretends  to  appropriate  and 
absorb  in  itself  the  object  of  its  desires.  Sensu- 
ality is,  so  to  speak,  but  a  distorted,  narrow  and 
localized  love ;  the  body  is  the  object  of  its  con- 
templation, and  it  [sensuahty]  sees  nothing  beyond 
the  possession  of  the  object. 

But  love  does  not  stop  at  the  body  —  that  would 
be  its  tomb ;  it  crosses  the  limits  of  it,  to  rise  to  the 
soul  in  which  it  is  utterly  absorbed.  Thus  love 
transfigures  the  being  by  consuming  its  personality, 
whence  it  comes  that  he  who  loves,  no  longer  lives 
his  own  life,  but  the  life  of  the  being  whom  he  con- 
templates. 

Let  the  vulgar  continually  confound  these  two 
things  in  their  manifestations ;  let  lovers  themselves 
fail  to  distinguish  accurately  between  tenderness 
and  sensuality ;  for  me  this  confusion  is  henceforth 
forbidden,  and  I  can  from  the  first  glance  boldly 
separate  them,  thanks  to  the  lessons  taught  me  by 
the  inflections  of  the  head. 

But  let  us  return  to  the  shoulder.  Am  I  not  right 
in  saying  that  in  this  agent  I  possess  the  organic 
criterion  of  love?     Yes,  I  maintain  it.     But  let  us 


EPISODE  V.  435 

follow  the  action  of  this  organ  in  its  various  mani- 
festations. 

One  thing  at  first  amazed  me,  in  view  of  the  part 
which  I  felt  I  must  assign  to  the  shoulder.  Whence 
comes,  if  the  designation  of  that  role  be  in  confor- 
mity with  truth, — whence  comes  the  activity  so  ap- 
parent, so  vehement  indeed,  which  the  shoulder 
displays  in  a  movement  of  anger  or  of  mere  impa- 
tience? Whence  comes  its  perfect  concomitance  or 
relations  with  moral  or  physical  pain?  Lastly, 
whence  comes  that  universal  application  which  I 
just  now  perceived  clearly  and  which,  until  now,  I 
had  confined  to  such  narrow  limits  ?  But  if  the  ele- 
vation of  the  shoulder  is  not  the  criterion  of  love, 
if,  on  the  contrary,  that  movement  is  met  with  again 
just  as  correctly  associated  with  the  most  contradic- 
tory impressions,  what  can  it  mean? 

Here  I  was,  once  again,  thrown  far  back  from  the 
discovery  that  I  was  so  sure  I  possessed. 

It  is  very  fortunate  that  I  have  been  neither  an 
author  nor  a  journalist,  and  I  bless  to-day  that  dis- 
trust of  self  which  has  saved  me  from  the  mania  of 
writing.  I  highly  congratulate  myself  on  the  spirit 
of  prudence  that  has  invariably  made  me  reply  to 
whoever  pressed  me  to  publish  :   '*  When  I  am  old.'' 

Age  has  come,  and  it  has  found  me  even  less  dis- 
posed to  publicity  than  ever.  This  work  owes  its 
existence  solely  to  the  earnest  and  continual  solici- 
tations, the  sometimes  severe  demands  of  deep 
friendship  and  devotion,  which  it  was  impossible  for 


436  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

me  to  refuse.  This  book  is  not,  then,  a  spontaneous 
enterprise  on  my  part ;  it  is  the  work  of  friendship. 
And  if  this  book  has  any  measure  of  success,  if  it 
accompHshes  any  good,  it  may  be  traced  back  to 
and  acknowledged  as  rising  from  the  never-failing 
encouragement  of  my  old  friend  Brucker. 

Let  us  return,  now,  to  where  I  was  in  my  re- 
searches. 

It  remains,  then,  for  me  to  specify  the  true  mean- 
ing of  the  shoulders  in  the  expression  of  the  pas- 
sions. Their  intervention  in  all  forms  of  emotion 
being  proven  to  me,  it  would  seem  that  the  very 
frequency  of  that  intervention  should  exclude  the. 
possibility  of  assigning  any  particular  role  to  this 
agent. 

Fancy  my  perplexity,  placed  face  to  face  with  an 
organ  infinitely  expressive,  but  whose  physiognomy 
is  mingled  promiscuously  with  every  sentiment  and 
every  passion ! 

How,  then,  are  we  to  characterize  the  shoulder? 
What  name  shall  we  give  to  its  dominant  role  ?  How 
specify  that  supreme  power  outside  of  which  all  ex- 
pression ceases  to  exist?  Is  it  allowable  for  me  to 
call  it  neutral?  And  if  the  universal  application  of 
that  agent  apparently  authorizes  that  appellation  up 
to  a  certain  point,  whence  comes  its  importance? 
Whence  the  empire  that  it  exerts  over  the  aspect  of 
its  congeners?  Is  it  admissible  for  a  neutral  agent 
to  exert  so  much  action  upon  the  totality  of  the 
forces  to  which  it  is  allied  ? 


EPISODE  V.  437 

Assuredly  not !  The  word  neutral^  moreover,  ex- 
cludes the  idea  of  action,  and  even  more  strongly 
that  of  predominant  action  which  belongs  surpass- 
ingly to  the  shoulder.  Truly,  here  was  a  treasure- 
house  for  me.  It  was,  as  they  say,  **to  give  speech 
to  the  dogs." 

This  new  difficulty  only  increased  the  determina- 
tion with  which  I  had  pursued  my  researches ;  and 
with  the  confidence  arising  from  the  fact  that  no 
obstacle  had  yet  conquered  me,  I  said  to  myself 
that  the  solution  of  this  problem  would  be  due  to 
my  perseverance.  I  could  not,  in  view  of  the  im- 
portance of  its  expression,  consider  the  shoulder  as 
a  neutral  agent.  After  spending  a  long  time  in  vain 
study,  I  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  as  insoluble 
the  problem  that  I  had  set  myself  Let  us  see  by 
what  simple  means  I  obtained  the  solution.  How 
much  trouble  and  pains  one  will  sometimes  give  him- 
self in  looking  for  spectacles  that  are  on  his  nose  ! 

The  shoulder,  in  every  man  who  is  moved  or  agi- 
tated, rises  sensibly,  his  will  playing  no  part  in  the 
ascension ;  the  successive  developments  of  this  in- 
voluntary act  are  in  absolute  proportion  to  the  pas- 
sional intensity  whose  numeric  measure  they  form ; 
the  shoulder  may,  therefore,  be  fitly  called  the  ther- 
mometer of  the  sensibility. 

"  Thermometer,"  I  cried,  "  there  is  an  excellent 
word,  strikingly  correct.  But  have  I  not,  in  pro- 
nouncing it,  simply  and  naturally  characterized  the 
r61e  that  I  am  striving  to  define  ? 


438  delsarte's  own  words. 

"  Thermometer  of  the  sensiblUty  !  Is  not  that  the 
solution  of  the  enigma?  Thermometer;  yes,  that  is 
it !  That  is  the  very  expression  to  give  to  my  re- 
searches, an  expression  without  which  nothing  could 
be  explained.  That,  indeed,  answers  to  everything, 
and  makes  the  difficulties  against  which  my  reason 
struggled  disappear." 

The  shoulder  is,  in  fact,  precisely  the  thermome- 
ter of  passion  as  well  as  of  sensibility;  it  is  the 
measure  of  their  vehemence ;  it  determines  their 
degree  of  heat  and  intensity.  However,  it  does  not 
specify  their  nature,  and  it  is  certainly  in  an  analo- 
gous sense  that  the  instrument  known  by  the  name 
of  thermometer  marks  the  degrees  of  heat  and  cold 
without  specifying  the  nature  of  the  'weather  —  a 
specification  belonging  to  another  instrument,  the 
complement  of  the  thermometer  —  the  barometer. 
The  parallel  is  absolute,  perfect.' 

Let  us  examine  this  point: 

The  shoulder,  in  rising,  is  not  called  upon  to 
teach  us  whether  the  source  of  the  heat  or  vehemence 
which  mark  it,  arise  from  love  or  hate.  This  speci- 
fication does  not  lie  within  its  province ;  it  belongs 
entirely  to  the  face,  which  is  to  the  shoulder  what 
the  barometer  is  to  the  thermometer.  And  it  is 
thus  that  the  shoulder  and  the  face  enter  into  har- 
monious relations  to  complete  the  passional  sense 
which  they  have  to  determine  mutually  and  by  dis- 
tinct paths. 

Now,  the   shoulder  is   limited,  in   its  proper  do- 


EPISODE  V.  439 

main,  to  proving,  first,  that  the  emotion  expressed 
by  the  face  is  or  is  not  true.  Then,  afterward,  to 
marking,  with  mathematical  rigor,  the  degree  of  in- 
tensity to  which  that  emotion  rises. 

After  having  finished  the  formulation  of  this 
principle  I  exultingly  exclaimed : 

*'  God  be  praised  !  I  now  possess  the  semeiotics 
of  the  shoulder,  and  thereby  I  hold  the  criterion  of 
the  passional  or  sensitive  powers  —  a  criterion  out- 
side of  which  no  truth  can  be  demonstrated  in  the 
sphere  of  sentiment  or  feeling." 

Thus,  a  word  suggested  by  chance  became  my 
Archimedean  lever.  The  word,  like  a  flash  of  light, 
flooded  my  mind  with  radiance  which  suddenly  re- 
vealed to  me  the  numerous  and  fertile  applications 
of  a  principle  hitherto  unknown.  Yes,  I  henceforth 
possessed  an  aesthetic  principle  of  the  utmost  value, 
the  consequences  of  which,  I  could  readily  see, 
were  as  novel  as  they  were  profound. 


EPISODE  VI. 

FIRST  OBJECTION  TO   THE   THERMOMETRIC    SYSTEM 
OF  THE    SHOULDER. 

The  innate  aesthetic  principle  of  the  semeiotics  of 
the  shoulder  was  at  last  clearly  demonstrated  to 
me,  and  no  more  doubt  or  uncertainty  upon  that 
point  seemed  to  me  possible.  I  might  safely  form- 
ulate the  following  rule : 

When  a  man  says  to  you  in  interjective  form  :  *'  I 
love,  I  suffer,  I  am  delighted,"  etc.,  do  not  believe 
him  if  his  shoulder  remains  in  a  normal  attitude. 
Do  not  believe  him,  no  matter  what  expression  his 
face  may  assume.  Do  not  believe  him  —  he  lies ; 
his  shoulder  denies  his  words.  That  negative  form 
betrays  his  thoughts;  and,  if  he  expresses  ardent 
passion,  you  have  merely  to  consult  the  thermome- 
ter which,  all  unwittingly,  he  himself  offers  to  your 
inspection.  See,  it  marks  zero  !  therefore  he  lies ; 
doubt  it  not,  he  lies  !  but  his  shoulder  does  not  lie. 
He  amiably  puts  it  at  your  disposal  ■ —  read,  read  at 
your  ease ;  it  bears  inscribed  in  living  letters  his 
deceit  and  craft.  It  can  never  cheat  you,  and  when 
the  gentleman  accosts  you  with  such  words  as : 
**  Dear  friend  !  how  charmed  I  am  to  see  you!" 
say  to  yourself  as  you  look  at  his  thermometer : 
"  Traitor,  your  delight  as  well  as  your  friendship  is 
below  zero  !     You  try  to  deceive  me,  but  in  vain  ; 


EPISODE  VI.  441 

henceforth  you  have  no  secrets  from  me,  clumsy 
forger !  You  do  not  see,  as  with  one  hand  you 
proffer  the  false  jewel  which  you  would  sell  me, 
that  the  other  at  the  same  instant  gives  me  the 
touch-stone  which  reveals  your  tricks;  your  right 
hand  thus  incessantly  exposing  to  me  the  secrets 
of  your  left  hand  !  " 

What  an  admirable  thing  is  this  mechanism  of  the 
body  working  in  the*  service  of  the  soul !  With 
what  precision  it  reveals  the  least  movements  of  its 
master !  What  magnificent  things  it  lays  bare ! 
Voluntarily  or  involuntarily,  everything  leads  to 
truth  under  the  action  of  the  translucid  light  which 
breaks  forth  in  the  working  of  each  of  our  organs ! 

And  yet,  well  founded  as  the  preceding  theory 
may  be,  solid  as  are  the  bases  upon  which  it  rests, 
is  it  free  from  any  and  all  objection?  May  not  some 
oppose  to  it,  for  instance,  the  impassibility  of  men 
and  women  of  the  world,  among  whom  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  the  movements  of  the  shoulder, 
which  such  people  deem  so  ungraceful  in  others  as 
to  deprive  them  of  all  desire  to  imitate  them?  Now 
what  conclusions  are  we  to  draw  from  the  absence 
of  this  movement  in  those  who  are  known  as  aristo- 
crats? Must  we  tax  them  all  indiscriminately  with 
falsehood? 

Here  I  might,  and  without  hesitation,  answer  by 
the  affirmation.  Yes,  all  aristocrats  lie !  The  me- 
dium which  they  constitute  and  which  is  called  the 
world  is  nothing  but  a  perpetual  lie.     Civility  itself 


442  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

rests  upon  a  lie.  Nay,  more,  it  insists  upon  deceit 
as  a  duty.  Heavens,  what  would  become  of  the 
world  if  truth  were  a  necessity !  Quarter  of  an 
hour  of  sincerity  would  be  intolerable ;  .  .  .  the 
inhabitants  would  slay  each  other ! 

In  the  world  people  display  their  feelings,  even 
the  most  avowable,  with  great  reserve;  this  pru- 
dence, which  paralyzes  the  very  springs  of  sensitive 
life,  seems  as  if  it  needs  mTist  neutralize  the  role 
which  I  attribute  to  the  shoulder;  and  yet,  in  spite 
of  contrary  appearances,  I  deny  that  the  thermo- 
metric  action  of  the  shoulder  undergoes  the  least 
alteration  in  the  aristocratic  world ;  I  deny  explicitly  * 
that  this  agent  proves  less  expressive  and,  above  all, 
less  truthful  there  than  in  the  street ;  and  that  for 
the  following  reasons : 

In  the  first  place,  we  cannot  reasonably  suppose 
very  ardent  passions  in  men  who  are  enervated  by 
the  perpetual  influence  of  an  artificial  society.  Now, 
here  the  stationary  condition  of  the  thermometer  is 
explained  :  it  proves  absolutely  nothing  against  the 
truth  of  the  reports ;  it  remains  at  zero  to  mark  a 
colorless  medium  totally  destitute  of  vitality.  The 
shoulder  would  violate  its  law  if  it  were  to  rise  un- 
der such  circumstances.  It  is,  therefore,  perfectly  in 
character  here ;  it  should  be,  a  priori,  impassive  in 
a  negative  society. 

But  is  the  shoulder  really  impassive  in  that  me- 
dium which  we  call  society  ? 

Yes,  in  the  eyes  of  people  who  are  not  of  it,  and 


EPISODE  VI.  443 

who,  from  that  very  fact,  cannot  understand  the  value 
of  certain  expressions  which  are  almost  impercept- 
ible ;  no,  to  those  who  constitute  that  special  world 
of  relations  called  superior. 

How  many  things,  in  fact,  the  shoulder  reveals  by 
those  slight  changes  unseen  by  ignorant  persons,  and 
expressing  particularly  the  delicate  and  exquisite 
charm  of  spiritual  relations  !  It  is  the  law  of  infini- 
tesimal quantities,  'of  those  scarcely  perceptible 
movements  or  sensations  that  characterize  the  finer 
relations  of  people  of  culture,  of  eloquence,  of  grace, 
and  of  refined  tastes. 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  as  I  have  already 
shown,  that  the  manifestations  of  the  shoulder  in  the 
street  by  no  means  accord  with  those  of  people  ruled 
by  the  fashions  of  society.  There  is  very  little  har- 
mony or  relation  between  the  exquisite  joints  of  a 
refined  nature,  the  swift  and  flexible  movements  of 
an  elegant  organism,  and  the  evolutions  clumsily  ex- 
ecuted by  torpid  limbs,  ankylosed,  as  it  were,  by  labor 
at  once  hard  and  constant. 

This  observation  logically  led  me  to  an  important 
conclusion,  namely,  that  the  value  or  importance  of 
a  standard  is  deduced  expressly  from  the  nature  of 
the  being,  or  the  object  to  which  it  is  applied.  Of 
what  value,  for  instance,  could  a  millimeter  be  when 
added  to  the  stature  of  a  man?  That  same  milli- 
meter, however,  would  acquire  a  colossal  value  when 
added  to  the  proportions  of  a  flea.  It  would  form 
a  striking  monstrosity. 


444  DELSARTE'S   OWN   WORDS. 

An  imperceptible  fraction  may,  in  certain  cases, 
constitute  an  enormity.  Again,  the  value  of  a  stand- 
ard, not  the  specific  or  numerical  value  which  is  an 
invariable  basis,  but  the  relative  or  moral  value,  must 
be  deduced  from  the  importance  of  the  medium  to 
which  it  applies.  For  instance  :  Five  hundred  men 
constitute  a  very  good  army  in  the  midst  of  a  peace- 
ful population ;  and  this  handful  of  soldiers  exerts, 
indeed,  more  moral  power  than  the  multitudes  re- 
strained under  their  government.  A  smile  coming 
from  the  lips  of  a  sovereign  leaves  in  the  soul  that 
it  penetrates  a  far  deeper  trace  than  all  the  demon- 
strations of  a  common  or  vulgar  crowd.  The  trav- 
eler, detained  by  the  winter  in  the  polar  regions, 
finds  that  he  is  warm  and  takes  pleasure  in  the  dis- 
covery, though  at  the  time  the  thermometer  marks 
10  degrees  below  zero. 

The  atmosphere  of  a  cave  that  we  find  warm  in 
winter  seems  to  us,  without  being  modified  in  the 
least,  of  an  icy  coldness  in  summer. 

The  large  quantity  of  alcohol  that  laboring  people 
consume  would  ruin  the  health  of  less  strongly  con- 
stituted persons. 

To  conclude,  then,  these  examples  prove  beyond 
dispute  that  one  can  only  appreciate  the  importance 
of  an  act  when  he  takes  into  account  the  nature  of 
its  agents,  and  that  without  these  considerations  he 
will  be  obliged  to  give  up  immediately  all  serious 
estimation  of  these  manifestations. 

Here  I  touch,  it  seems  to  me,  a  law  of  harmony, 


EPISODE  VI.  445 

a  curious  law  that  I  wish  to  examine  incidentally.  I 
shall,  then,  occupy  myself  with  the  objections  that 
may,  perhaps,  be  opposed  even  yet  to  the  thermo- 
metric  system  of  the  shoulder 


EPISODE  VII. 

The  foregoing  study  has,  as  it  seems,  estabhshed 
an  important  fact,  namely,  that  among  the  various 
classes  of  men  which  make  up  -  society  there  is  no 
common  standard  of  measure.  It,  therefore,  appears 
impossible,  at  first  sight,  to  establish  a  harmonious 
scale  of  relations  between  so  many  various  circles. 

However,  if  these  circles,  whatever  their  differ- 
ences maybe,  were  specified  and  sufficiently  known  ; 
if  I  could,  for  example,  judge  a  priori  of  the  style 
and  mode  of  activity  adapted  to  each  class  of  soci- 
ety ;  in  a  word,  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  char- 
acterize each  of  its  classes  dynamically,  should  I  not 
succeed  in  ascertaining  a  proportionate  gamut  or 
scale  among  them,  and  thereby  should  I  not  be  en- 
abled securely  to  apply  the  principles  established 
above  ? 

Let  us  say,  to  begin  with,  that  if  each  social  sphere 
affects  a  determinate  character  in  the  intensity  of  its 
passional  evolutions,  it  has,  in  consequence,  its  spe- 
cial gamut;  then,  as  many  spheres  as  there  are,  so 
many  gamuts  must  there  be.  Now,  all  these  gamuts 
taken  together  must  form  a  scale  of  proportion  in 
virtue  of  which  they  may  be  characterized.  That  is 
obvious.  But  the  difficulty  is  to  prove  the  mode  or 
first  tonality  of  these  gamuts.  How  are  we  to  set  to 
work? 


EPISODE  VII.  447 

I  cut  short,  for  the  clearness  of  my  demonstra- 
tions, the  recital  of  the  events  through  which  I  have 
been  obliged  to  pass  before  realizing  even  my  ear- 
liest observations.  I  shall  set  forth,  plainly  and 
simply,  the  final  result  of  my  studies ;  and  it  will  be 
seen,  in  spite  of  the  many  difficulties  that  may  arise, 
with  what  absolute  certainty  the  principles  I  have 
established  can  be  applied. 


WHAT  I  PROPOSE. 

I  propose  a  great,  a  worthy  subject  for  your  study. 
At  those  oratorical  sessions  which  are  rapidly  in- 
creasing under  the  name  of  conferences,  sessions  at 
which  so  many  distinguished  men  take  the  floor,  you 
have  been  told  in  elegant  terms,  often  in  eloquent 
terms,  of  the  sciences,  of  their  application  and  of 
their  progress.  You  have  listened  to  discourses 
upon  art,  its  primitive  purity,  its  supposed  princi- 
ples, its  decadence,  its  renaissance,  its  multifarious 
changes ;  its  masterpieces  have  been  pointed  out  to 
you ;  they  have  been  described  to  you ;  you  have, 
in  some  degree,  been  made  familiar  with  their  origin. 
You  have  heard  the  story  of  the  lives  of  the  great 
artists.  They  have  been  shown  to  you  in  their 
weakness  and  in  their  strength.  The  times  and 
manners  amid  which  they  lived  have  been  painted 
for  you  in  more  or  less  imaginary  colors.  I  propose 
something  better  than  all  this. 

I  offer  you  a  work  superior  even  to  those  sciences 
which  have  been  described  to  you ;  superior  to  all 
which  the  genius  of  a  Michael  Angelo  or  a  Raphael 
could  conceive ;  a  work  in  comparison  with  which 
all  the  magnificences  of  science  and  of  art  must 
pale.  I  propose  that  you  should  contemplate  your- 
selves ! 

Nothing  is  so  unfamiliar  to  man  as  himself.  I 
will,  therefore,  as  I  have  promised,  show  you  the- 


WHAT  I   PROPOSE.  '^  449 

marvels  which  God  himself  has  placed  within  you, 
in  the  transluminous  obscurities  of  your  being. 

Now,  if  there  be  more  science,  more  genius  in  the 
production  of  a  violet  or  a  worm  than  is  revealed  by 
all  the  combined  powers  of  science  and  of  art,  how 
much  admiration  should  we  not  feel  at  the  sight  of 
all  the  splendors  which  God  has  spread  broadcast  in 
the  privileged  work  wherein  He  was  pleased  to  reveal 
his  own  image  !  But  a  light  inaccessible  to  the  vain 
demonstrations  of  your  sciences  constantly  removes 
this  mysterious  image  from  your  gaze.  As  light 
eludes  the  eye  which  it  illumines,  if  we  would  seize 
and  contemplate  it,  we  must  have  two  things :  we 
must  have  a  special  and  a  supernatural  object. 
There  must  be  light  within  you,  and  it  must  pierce 
the  depths  wherein  that  image  dwells. 

Here  there  is  no  question  of  the  light  which 
shines  to  show  us  the  things  of  the  natural  world  by 
which  we  are  surrounded.  Nor  is  it  a  question  of 
the  intellectual  light  sometimes  visible  to  scholars. 
I  speak  of  that  light  which  is  hidden  from  those 
very  scholars  because  their  eyes  could  not  bear  its 
lustre,  a  transluminous  light  which  fills  the  soul 
with  beatific  visions,  and  of  which  it  is  said  that  God 
wraps  it  about  Him  as  a  mantle. 

Now,  three  worlds,  of  the  nature  of  which  man 
partakes,  are  offered  for  our  contemplation.  These 
three  worlds  are :  The  natural^  the  intellectualy  and 
the  supernatural. 

Three  sorts  of  vision  have  been  given  man  to  in- 
29 


450*^  delsarte's  own  words. 

itiate  him  into  these  three  worlds.     These  different 
forms  of  vision  are  :  Direct^  inward  and  higher. 

By  means  of  direct  vision  man  is  made  acquainted 
with  the  world  of  nature;  by  inward  vision  he  is 
shown  the  world  of  science ;  and,  lastly,  by  higher 
vision  he  sees  the  world  of  grace.  But  as  there  can 
be  no  vision  where  no  light  penetrates,  it  follows 
that  between  the  three  kinds  of  vision  described  and 
the  corresponding  worlds  there  must  intervene  three 
sorts  of  light,  in  order  to  produce  the  triple  vision 
necessary  for  the  knowledge  of  man : 

Direct  vision  —  sidereal  light  —  natural  world. 
Inward  vision  —  the  light  of  tradition — the  world  of 

science. 
Higher  vision  —  revealed  light — supernatural  world. 

Such  are  the  conditions  necessary  for  the  under- 
standing of  my  demonstrations. 

Having  prepared  your  eye  for  the  vision  of  these 
three  worlds  which  serve  as  the  bases  of  art,  I  shall, 
then,  reveal  to  you  their  splendors ;  happy  if,  thus, 
I  can  help  to  make  you  bless  the  author  of  so  many 
marvels,  and  communicate  to  you  those  keen  joys 
which  perpetuate  in  the  soul  a  fountain  of  youth 
which  can  never  be  quenched  by  the  infirmities  of 
the  body. 


THE  BEAUTIFUL. 

Beauty  is  that  reason  itself  which  presides  at  the 
creation  of  things.  It  is  the  invincible  power  which 
attracts  and  subjugates  us  in  it.  The  Beautiful 
admits  of  three  characters,  which  we  distinguish 
under  the  titles  of  2^<?^/ beauty,  moralhQdcaiyy plastic 
beauty. 

Plato  defined  ideal  beauty  when  he  said :  '*  Beauty 
is  the  splendor  of  truth."  St.  Augustine  said  of 
moral  beauty  that  it  is  the  splendor  of  goodness. 
I  define  plastic  beauty  as  the  plastic  manifestation 
of  truth  and  goodness. 

In  so  far  as  it  responds  to  the  particular  type  in 
accordance  with  which  it  is  formed,  every  creature 
bears  the  crown  of  beauty;  because  in  its  corre- 
spondence with  its  type  it  manifests,  according  to  its 
capacity,  the  Divine  Being  who  created  it. 

The  Beautiful  is  an  absolute  principle ;  it  is  the 
essence  of  beings,  the  life  of  their  functions. 
Beauty  is  a  consequence,  an  effect,  a  form  of  the 
Beautiful.  It  results  fr9m  the  attractions  of  the 
form.  The  attraction  of  the  form  comes  from  the 
nobility  of  the  function.  This  is  why  all  functions 
not  being  equally  noble,  all  do  not  admit  of  beauty. 
The  characteristic  of  beauty  is  to  be  amiable ;  con- 
sequently a  thing  is  ugly  only  in  view  of  the  amiable 
things  which  we  seek  in  beauty. 


452  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

Beauty  is  to  the  Beautiful  what  the  individual 
reason  is  to  the  Divine  reason  of  things.  Human 
reason  is  but  one  ray  of  a  vast  orb  called  the  reason 
of  things, — Divine  reason.  Let  us  say  of  beauty 
what  we  have  said  of  the  individual  reason,  and  we 
shall  understand  how  the  Beautiful  is  to  be  distin- 
tinguished  from  it.  Beauty  is  one  ray  of  the 
Beautiful. 

Beauty  is  the  expression  of  the  object  for  which 
the  thing  is. 

It  is  the  stamp  of  its  functions.  It  is  the  trans- 
parency of  the  aptitudes  of  the  agent  and  the  radi- 
ance of  the  faculties  which  it  governs.  It  is  the 
order  which  results  from  the  dynamic  disposition  of 
forms  operated  in  view  of  the  function. 

Beauty  is  based  on  three  conditions :  Clearness, 
integrity  and  due  proportion. 

Beauty  exists  in  the  practical  knowledge  of  the 
tendencies  affected  by  the  form  in  view  of  the  object 
for  which  it  is;  in  view,  above  all,  of  the  action 
which  it  exerts  upon  the  beings  with  whom  it  is  in 
relation.  Thus  a  thing  is  not  only  beautiful  from 
the  transparency  of  its  aptitudes,  it  is  especially  so 
from  the  beauty  of  the  acts  which  its  use  determines 
abroad.  This  is  the  reason  why  beauty  is  to  all 
creatures  an  object  of  appetency,  of  desire  and  of 
love. 


TRINITY. 

There  is  a  mystery  full  of  deep  instruction,  a  mys- 
tery whose  divine  obscurities  surpass  all  the  light 
whose  splendors  dazzle  us  by  their  supernatural 
clarity,  and  which,  as  a  great  saint  once  said,  radi- 
ates splendid  beams  and  floods  with  the  glory  of  its 
fires  those  spirits  who  are  blind  with  the  blindness 
of  holiness.  This  mystery,  outside  of  which  all  is  to 
man  dark  and  incomprehensible,  illuminates  every- 
thing and  explains  it  in  the  sense  that  it  is  the  cause, 
the  principle  and  the  end  of  all  things. 

This  dazzling  mystery  is  the  universal  criterion 
of  all  truth ;  it  is  the  science  of  sciences,  which  is 
self-defining  and  whose  name  is  Trinity. 

Here  we  foresee  an  objection  to  which  we  must 
first  reply.  Some  will  be  surprised  that  a  system 
declared  to  be  infallible  should  rest  upon  a  mystery ; 
they  will  ask  what  a  mystery  can  have  to  do  with  a 
purely  didactic  question.  Patience  !  You  shall  see 
that  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  Nothing  is  more  evi- 
dent than  light,  yet  light  is  a  mystery,  the  most  ob- 
scure of  all  mysteries.  Thus  light  escapes  the  eye 
and  it  does  not  see  that  by  means  of  which  it  sees. 
Now,  if  light  is  a  mystery,  why  should  not  mystery 
be  a  light?  Let  us  see  first  what  the  church  teaches 
us  in  regard  to  this  mystery. 

God  is  a  word  which  serves  as  a  pretext  for  every 
Utopia,  for  every  illusion  and  for  every  human  folly. 


454  DELSARTES   OWN   WORDS. 

The  Trinity  is  the  express  refutation  of  all  these 
stupidities ;  it  is  their  remedy,  corrective  and  preserv- 
ative. Deprive  me  'of  the  Trinity  and  I  can  no 
longer  understand  aught  of  God.  All  becomes  dark 
and  obscure  to  me,  and  I  have  no  longer  a  rational 
motive  for  hope. 

The  Trinity,  the  hypostatical  basis  of  beings  and 
things,  is  the  reflection  of  the  Divine  Majesty  in  its 
work.  It  is,  as  it  were,  a  reflection  upon  us  of  its 
own  Hght.  The  Trinity  is  our  guide  in  the  applied 
sciences  of  which  it  is  at  once  the  solution  and  the 
enigma. 

The  Trinity  is  manifest  in  the  smallest  divisions 
of  the  Divine  work,  and  is  to  be  regarded  as  the 
most  fertile  means  of  scientific  investigation ;  for  if 
it  is  at  once  the  cause,  the  principle  and  the  end  of 
all  science,  it  is  its  infallible  criterion  and  we  must 
start  from  it  as  an  immovable  axiom. 

Every  truth  is  triangular,  and  no  demonstration 
responds  to  its  object  save  in  virtue  of  a  triply  triple 
formula. 

Theory  of  Processional  Relations  ;  or  of  the  Connec- 
tion between  Principiants  and  Principiates. 

THEOREM. 

Each  term  in  the  Trinity  is  characterized  proces- 
sionally  by  the  arrangement  of  the  relations  which 
unite  it  to  its  congeners.  We  will  represent  the  na- 
ture of  these  relations  by  an  arrow,  the  head  of 
which  starts  from  the  principiant,  touching  with  its 
point  the  principiate. 


TRINITY. 


455 


EXAMPLE. 


Principiant  ^ 
terms. 


>0 


Principiate 
terms. 


This  established,  let  us  see  by  what  sort  of  rela- 
tions we  are  to  distinguish  the  persons  in  the  Trinity 
represented  by  i,  2  and  3. 

1.  The  Father — a  term  exclusively  principiant, 

giving  the  mission  and  not  receiving  it. 

2.  The  Son  —  a  term  both  principiant  and  prin- 

cipiate, receiving  and  giving  the  mission. 

3.  The  Holy  Ghost  —  a  term  exclusively  prin- 

cipiate,  receiving   the   mission   and   not 
giving  it. 


Son. 


Holy  Ghost. 
3 


1 
Father. 


Father, 


Holy  Ghost. 


Son. 


Father. 


Son. 


Holy  Ghost. 


456  DELSARTE'S   OWN   WORDS. 


TYPICAL 
ARRANGEMENTS 
BASED  ON   THE   KNOW- 
LEDGE ^F  THE  PROCESSION- 
AL    RELATIONS     INTERUNITING 
THE      PERSONS      IN      THE      TRINITY. 


^2 


A.  Relation  of  generation  starting  from  the  gen- 

erator, ending  at  the  engendered  (2),  ex- 
pressing by  its  horizontahty  the  co-equaHty 
of  the  principiant  with  the  principiate. 

B.  Relation  of  spiration  starting  from  the  spirator 

or  first  principiant  i,  ending  at  the  princip- 
iate 3. 

C.  Relation  of  spiration  starting  from  the   spira- 

tor or  second  principiant  2,  ending  at  the 
principiate  3,  emanated  by  way  of  the  com- 
mon spiration  of  its  double  principle  i 
and  2. 


Vicious  Arrangements, 

REVERSAL     OF     THE     PROCESSIONAL     RELATIONS    AND     CONFUSION 
WHICH    LEADS   TO    REVERSALS. 

These  first  three  examples  sin  from  lack  of  a  nec- 
essary relationship,  in  default  of  which  the  extreme 
terms  cannot  be  designated.  Here,  therefore,  the 
intermediate  term  alone  can  be  estimated. 


JRINITY. 


457 


2     -^ 


Here  the  Son  offers  the  relational  characteristics 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  • 


Here  He  plays  the  part  of  the  Father  by  the  ar- 
rangement of  His  relations. 


Here  the  Holy  Ghost  is  evidently  out  of  place, 
for  He  indicates  relations  which  belong  only  to  the 
Word. 

(i.)  According  to  these  relations,  the  Holy  Ghost 
plays  the  part  of  the  Son,  and  the  Son  that  of  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

3 


(2.)  Here  all  the  relations  are  reversed  so  that 
the  Father  plays  the  part  of  the  Son;  the  Holy 
Ghost  plays  the  part  of  the  Father ;  and,  finally,  the 
Son  that  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 


458 


DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 


(3.)  This  curious  example  represents  by  the 
identical  arrangement  of  the  terms  that  it  brings  to- 
gether, three  Sons ;  that  is  to  say,  the  person  of  the 
Son  three  times  over. 


(4.)  Another  reversal  of  the  relations,  which  de- 
rives the  Holy  Ghost  from  the  Father,  the  Father 
from  the  Son,  and  the  Son  from  the  Holy  Ghost. 


PASSION  OF  SIGNS.     SIGNS   OF  PASSION. 

These  two  terms  at  first  sight  seem  very  similar. 
It  is  not  so.  They  express  two  wholly  distinct 
things.  Therefore  to  know  the  meaning  of  words 
by  no  means  proves  one  capable  of  finding  words 
and  fitting  them  to  the  meaning. 

It  is  clearly  easier  to  translate  a  language  than  to 
write  it,  and  just  as  we  must  learn  to  translate  before 
we  can  compose,  so  we  must  become  thoroughly 
familiar  with  semeiotics  before  trying  to  work  at 
aesthetics ;  and,  as  the  science  of  semeiotics  is  still 
wholly  incomplete,  it  is,  therefore,  absolutely  im- 
possible that  that  which  is  called  aesthetics  should  in 
the  least  resemble  the  science  which  I  have  just 
defined. 

I  have  shown  you  aesthetics  as  a  science.  I  have 
given  you  its  definition.  I  have  fixed  its  special 
part  in  the  sum  total  of  knowledge  which  goes  to 
make  up  art;  moreover,  I  have  pointed  out  what 
this  science  is  intended  to  teach  you.  I  have,  by  so 
doing,  assumed  serious  obligations  toward  you.  I 
must  needs  produce  under  this  title  something  more 
than  mere  fantastic  reflections  upon  works  of  art,  or 
more  or  less  attractive  stories  about  their  authors  and 
the  circumstances  in  which  they  lived.  It  will  not  be 
so  amusing,  but  assuredly  it  will  be  more  profitable, 
and  that  is  all  for  which  I  aspire. 


46o  delsarte's  own  words. 

Art,  then,  is  an  act  whose  semeiotics  characterizes 
the  forms  produced  by  the  action  of  powers,  which 
action  is  determined  by  aesthetics,  and  the  causes  of 
which  are  sought  out  by  ontology. 

{Ontology  examines  the  constituent  virtues  of 
the  being. 
-Esthetics  examines  its  powers. 
Semeiotics  characterizes  its  forces. 
{Inherent  form  of  sentiments Esthetics. 
Metaphysical  form  of  the  principles,Ontology. 
Organic  form  of  signs. .  _ Semeiotics. 

The  object  of  art,  therefore,  is  to  reproduce,  by 
the  action  of  a  superior  principle  (ontology),  the 
organic  signs  explained  by  semeiotics,  and  whose  fit- 
ness is  estimated  by  aesthetics. 

Semeiotics  is  the  science  of  the  organic  signs  by 
which  aesthetics  must  study  inherent  fitness. 

^Esthetics  is  the  science  of  the  sensitive  and  pas- 
sional manifestations  which  are  the  object  of  art, 
and  whose  psychic  form  it  constitutes. 

If  semeiotics  does  not  tell  us  the  passion  which 
the  sign  reveals,  how  can  aesthetics  indicate  to  us 
the  sign  which  it  should  apply  to  the  passion  that  it 
studies?  In  a  word,  how  shall  the  artist  translate 
the  passion  which  he  is  called  upon  to  express  ? 

Esthetics  determines  the  inherent  forms  of  sen- 
timent in  view  of  the  effects  whose  truth  of  relation 
it  estimates. 

Semeiotics  studies  organic  forms  in  view  of  the 
sentiment  which  produces  them. 


PASSION  OF  SIGNS.      SIGNS  OF  PASSION.       46 1 

It  is  thus  that  wisdom  and  reason  proceed  in 
Inverse  sense  from  the  principle  to  the  knowledge 
which  is  the  object  of  both.  Wisdom,  in  fact, 
studies  the  principle  in  its  consequences,  while 
reason  studies  the  consequences  in  the  principle, 
hence  it  comes  that  wisdom  and  reason  are  often  at 
war  with  each  other ;  hence  also  the  obscurity  which 
generally  prevails  as  to  the  distinction  between  them. 
Let  us  say  that  wisdom  and  reason  are  to  intelligence 
what  aesthetics  and  semeiotics  are  to  art.  Let  us 
add  to  this  parallel  that  wisdom  and  reason  are  to 
intelligence  what  aesthetics  and  semeiotics  are  to 
ontology ;   that  is : — 

1.  If,  from  a  certain  organic  form,  I  infer  a  cer- 
tain sentiment,  that  is  Semeiotics. 

2.  If,  from  a  certain  sentiment,  I  deduce  a  certain 
organic  form,  that  is  ^Esthetics. 

3.  If,  after  studying  the  arrangement  of  an  organic 
form  whose  inherent  fitness  I  am  supposed  to  know> 
I  take  possession  of  that  arrangement  under  the 
title  of  methods,  invariably  to  reproduce  that  form 
by  substituting  my  individual  will  for  its  inherent 
cause,  that  is  Art. 

4.  If  I  determine  the  initial  phenomena  under  the 
impulsion  of  which  the  inherent  powers  act  upon  the 
organism,  that  is  Ontology. 

5.  If  I  tell  how  that  organism  behaves  under  the 
inherent  action,  that  is  Physiology, 

6.  If  I  examine,  one  by  one,  the  agents  of  that 
organism,  it  is  Anatomy, 


462  delsarte's  own  words. 

7.  If,  amid  these  different  studies,  I  seek  by  means 
of  analogy  and  generalization  for  light  to  guide  my 
steps  toward  my  advantage,  that  is  System. 

8.  If  I  make  that  light  profitable  to  my  material 
and  spiritual  interests,  that  is  Reason. 

9.  If  I  add  to  all  this  the  loving  contemplation  of 
the  Supreme  Author  in  His  work,  that  is  Wisdom. 

Let  us  now  leave  the  abstractions  to  which  you 
have  kindly,  lent  your  attention.  I  cannot  here 
avoid  casting  a  rapid  glance  at  those  sources  of 
science  and  art,  the  sources  whence  I  desire  to 
draw  applications  which  I  am  assured  will  interest 
you  as  they  interest  me.  May  they  afford  you  the 
same  delight! 

By  listening  to  me  thus  far  you  have  passed 
through  the  proofs  requisite  for  your  initiation  into 
science  as  well  as  art ;  into  science,  whose  very  def- 
inition is  unknown  to  the  learned  bodies,  since  they 
have  never  studied  aught  of  it  but  its  specialties ; 
into  art,  whose  very  fundamental  basis  is  unsus- 
pected by  the  School  of  Fine  Arts,  as  I  have  else- 
where demonstrated.  Therefore,  I  now  desire  in  the 
course  of  these  lectures  to  set  aside  the  terms  of  a 
technology  which  I  could  not  avoid  at  the  outset, 
and  by  the  recital  of  my  labors  and  my  researches, 
my  disappointments  and  my  discoveries,  to  show 
you  the  painful  birth  of  a  science,  whose  possession 
entitles  me  to  the  honor  of  addressing  you  to-day. 


DEFINITION   OF  FORM. 

Form  is  the  garb  of  substance.  It  is  the  expres- 
sive symbol  of  a  mysterious  truth.  It  is  the  trade- 
mark of  a  hidden  virtue.  It  is  the  actuahty  of  the 
being.    In  a  word,  form  is  the  plastic  art  of  the  Ideal. 

We  have  to  consider  three  sorts  of  form :  The 
form  assumed  by  the  being  at  birth  and  which  we 
will  call  constitutional  form.  Under  the  sway  of 
custom  forms  undergo  modifications :  We  will  call 
these  forms  habitual  forms.  Then  there  are  the 
fugitive  forms,  modifications  of  the  constitutional 
form,  which  are  produced  under  the  sway  of  pas- 
sion. These  forms,  which  we  will  call  accidental^ 
passional  or  transitoryy  are  fugitive  as  the  things 
which  give  them  birth. 


ON  DISTINCTION  AND  VULGARITY  OF 
MOTION. 

Motion  generally  has  its  reaction;  a  projected 
body  rebounds  and  it  is  this  rebound  which  we  call 
the  reaction  of  the  motion. 

Rebounding  bodies  are  agreeable  to  the  eye. 
Lack  of  elasticity  in  a  body  is  disagreeable  from  the 
fact  that  lacking  suppleness,  it  seems  as  if  it  must, 
in  falling,  be  broken,  flattened  or  injured  ;  in  a  word, 
must  lose  something  of  the  integrality  of  its  form. 
It  is,  therefore,  the  reaction  of  a  body  which  proves 
its  elasticity,  and  which,  by  this  very  quality,  gives 
us  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  witnessing  a  fall,  which  apart 
from  this  reaction  could  not  be  other  than  disagree- 
able. Therefore,  elasticity  of  dynamic  motions  is  a 
prime  necessity  from  the  point  of  view  of  charm. 

In  the  vulgar  man  there  is  no  reaction.  In  the 
man  of  distinction,  on  the  contrary,  motion  is  of 
slight  extent  and  reaction  is  enormous.  Reaction  is 
both  slow  and  rapid. 


GESTURE. 

The  artist  should  have  three  objects :  To  move^  to 
interesty  X.o  persuade.  He  interests  by /<3:;/^/^<2:^^/  he 
moves  by  thought :  he  moves,  interests  and  per- 
suades by  gesture. 

Language  is  the  weakest  of  the  three  agents.  In 
a  matter  of  the  feelings  language  proves  nothing- 
It  has  no  real  value,  save  that  which  is  given  to  it 
by  the  preparation  of  gesture. 

Gesture  corresponds  to  the  soul,  to  the  heart; 
language  to  the  life,  to  the  thought,  to  the  mind. 
The  hfe  and.  the  mind  being  subordinate  to  the  heart, 
to  the  soul,  gesture  is  the  chief  organic  agent.  So 
it  has  its  appropriate  character  which  is  persuasion, 
and  it  borrows  from  the  other  two  agents  interest 
and  emotion.  It  prepares  the  way,  in  fact,  for  lan- 
guage and  thought ;  it  goes  before  them  and  fore- 
tells their  coming ;    it  accentuates  them. 

By  its  silent  eloquence  it  predisposes,  it  guides  the 
listener.  It  makes  him  a  witness  to  the  secret  labor 
performed  by  the  immanences  which  are  about  to 
burst  forth.  It  flatters  him  by  leading  him  to  feel 
that  he  partakes  in  this  preparation  by  the  initiation 
to  which  it  admits  him.  It  condenses  into  a  single 
word  the  powers  of  the  three  agents.  It  represents 
virtue  effective  and  operative.  It  assimilates  the 
auxiliaries  which  surround  it,  and  reflects  the  imma- 
30 


466  delsarte's  own  words. 

nence  proper  to  its  nature,  the  contemplation  of  its 
subject  deeply  seen,  deeply  felt.  It  possesses  them 
synthetically,  fully,  absolutely. 

Artistic  gesture  is  the  expression  of  the  physiog- 
nomy ;  it  is  transluminous  action ;  it  is  the  mirror 
of  lasting  things. 

Lacordaire,  that  spoiled  child  of  the  intellect, 
spoke  magnificently.  He  interested,  he  aroused 
admiration,  but  he  did  not  persuade.  His  organism 
was  rebellious  to  gesture.  He  was  the  artist  of 
language.  Ravignan,  inferior  intellectually,  pre- 
pared his  audience  by  his  attitude,  touched  them  by 
the  general  expression  of  his  face,  fascinated  them 
by  his  gaze.     He  was  the  artist  of  gesture. 

Thus,  if  we  sing,  let  us  not  forget  that  the  pre- 
lude, the  refrain,  is  the  spiritual  expression  of  the 
song ;  that  we  must  take  advantage  of  this  exordium 
to  guide  ourselves,  to  predispose  our  hearers  in  our 
favor ;  that  we  must  point  out  to  them,  must  make 
them  foresee  by  the  expression  of  our  face  the 
thought  and  the  words  which  are  to  follow;  that,  in 
fact,  the  ravished  spectator  may  be  dazzled  by  a 
song  which  he  has  not  yet  heard,  but  which  he 
divines  or  thinks  that  he  divines. 

Definition  of  Gesture.      (Compare    Delaumosne, 

page  43.) 

Gesture  is  the  direct  agent  of  the  heart.     It  is  the 

fit  manifestation  of  feeling.     It  is  the  revealer  of 

thought  and  the  commentator  upon  speech.     It  is 


GESTURE.  467 

the  elliptical  expression  of  language;  it  is  the  justi- 
fication of  the  additional  meanings  of  speech.  In 
a  word,  it  is  the  spirit  of  which  speech  is  merely  the 
letter.  Gesture  is  parallel  to  the  impression  re- 
ceived ;  it  is,  therefore,  always  anterior  to  speech, 
which  is  but  a  reflected  and  subordinate  expression. 

Gesture  is  founded  on  three  bases  which  give  rise 
to  three  orders  of  studies ;  that  is,  to  three  sciences, 
namely :  The  static^  the  dyna7nic  and  the  semeiotic. 

What  are  these  three  sciences,  and,  first  of  all, 
what  are  they  in  relation  to  gesture?  The  semei- 
otic is  its  mind ;  the  dynamic  is  its  soul ;  the  static 
is  founded  on  the  mutual  equilibrium  or  equipoise 
of  the  agents. 

The  dynamic  presents  the  multiple  action  of  three 
agents ;  that  is  to  say,  of  the  constituent  forces  of 
the  soul. 

The  semeiotic  presents  to  our  scrutiny  a  triple 
object  for  study.  It  sets  forth  the  cause  of  the  acts 
produced  by  the  dynamic  and  the  static  harmonies. 
Moreover,  it  reveals  the  meaning  of  the  types  which 
form  the  object  of  the  system.  It  offers  us  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  formal  or  constitutional  types,  of  the 
fugitive  or  accidental  types,  and,  finally,  of  the 
habitual  types. 

The  triple  object  of  the  dynamic  are  the  rhythmic^ 
inflective  and  harmonic  forms.  Dynamic  rhythm  is 
founded  upon  the  important  law  of  mobility,  in- 
versely proportionate  to  the  masses  moved.  Dy- 
namic inflections  are  produced  by  three  movements : 


468  delsarte's  own  worids. 

Direct  movements,  rotary  movements  and  move- 
ments of  flexion  in  the  arc  of  a  circle. 

Dynamic  harmony  is  founded  on  the  concomi- 
tance of  the  relations  existing  between  all  the  agents 
of  gesture.  This  harmony  is  regulated  by  three 
states,  namely:  The  tonic  or  eccentric  state,  the 
atonic  or  concentric  state,  and  the  normal  state.  It, 
therefore,  remains  for  us  to  fix  the  three  vital  con- 
ditions of  the  static  part  of  gesture.  The  vital  con- 
dition of  the  static  is  based  upon  the  knowledge  of 
the  nine  stations.  The  spirit  of  the  static  entails  the 
study  of  scenic  planes  which  embrace  three  condi- 
tions :  The  condition  of  the  personage  in  relation  to 
the  scenic  centre  or  to  the  interlocutor  whom  he 
addresses ;  in  the  second  place,  his  situation ;  and, 
finally,  the  direction  assumed  by  his  body  in  regard 
to  the  conditions  already  indicated. 

The  soul  of  the  static  is  in  the  harmonic  opposi- 
tion of  the  surfaces  moved. 

The  most  powerful  of  all  gestures  is  that  which 
affects  the  spectator  without  his  knowing  it. 

From  this  statement  may  be  deduced  the  prin- 
ciple that:  Outward  gesture,  being  only  the  echo 
of  the  inward  gesture  which  gave  birth  to  it  and 
rules  it,  should  be  inferior  to  it  in  development  and 
should  be  in  some  sort  diaphanous. 


ATTITUDES  OF  THE  HEAD. 

The  head,  considered  in  its  three  direct  poses, 
presents  three  conditions  or  states.  When  facing 
the  object  contemplated,  it  presents  the  normal 
state;  bent  forward  and  in  the  direction  of  the 
object,  it  presents  the  concentric  state ;  raised  and 
considering  the  object  from  above,  it  presents  the 
eccentric  state.     [Compare  Delaumosne,  page  65.] 

If,  now,  we  consider  each  of  its  attitudes  in  con- 
nection with  a  double  lateral  inclination  of  which 
they  are  capable,  we  have  the  following  nine : 

1 .  The  first  is  normal.  The  head  is  neither  high 
nor  low,  the  glance  being  direct. 

2.  The  second  is  characteristic  of  tenderness. 
This  attitude  consists  in  bending  the  head  obliquely 
toward  the  interlocutor.  The  body,  in  this  attitude, 
should  not  face  the  object;  thus  the  head,  in  bending 
toward  it,  bends  sidewise  in  relation  to  the  body. 

3.  The  third  attitude  is  characteristic  of  sensu- 
ality. This  attitude  is  marked  by  an  inclination 
quite  the  reverse  of  the  second;  that  is  to  say, 
away  from  the  interlocutor.  Naturally,  in  this  atti- 
tude, as  in  the  preceding  one,  the  glance  is  oblique ; 
the  head  being  bent  forward  and  backward,  is  here 
placed  obliquely. 

4.  The  fourth  is  characteristic  of  scrutiny,  reflec- 
tion.    The  head  in  this  attitude  is  bent  forward  as 


470  delsakte's  own  words. 

we  said  in  concentration,  and  the  eye,  from  the 
effort  to  lower  the  head,  is  thrown  up  to  inspect  the 
object. 

5.  The  fifth  is  characteristic  of  veneration.  This 
attitude  offers  the  same  inclination  as  the  second ; 
but  here,  as  the  head  must  be  lowered,  the  eye  is 
directed  both  obliquely  and  upward. 

6.  The  sixth  is  characteristic  of  suspicion.  This 
attitude  offers  the  same  inclination  as  the  third,  with 
the  concentric  modifications  indicated  for  the  pre- 
ceding one. 

7.  The  seventh  is  characteristic  of  exaltation, 
passion.  This  attitude  is  eccentric  and  direct,  as 
we  have  already  said. 

8.  The  eighth  attitude  is  characteristic  of  aban- 
donment, extreme  confidence.  This  attitude  pre- 
sents the  inclination  of  the  second  and  the  fifth,  with 
this  difference,  that  here  the  head  is  thrown  back 
and  the  eye,  instead  of  being  bent  directly  upon 
the  object  as  in  the  second  and  upward  as  in  the 
fifth,  here  gazes  downward. 

9.  The  ninth  attitude  is  characteristic  of  pride. 
This  last  attitude  takes  the  inclination  of  the  sixth 
and  eighth  attitudes,  with  the  differences  in  gaze 
indicated  in  the  foregoing. 

Thus,  to  sum  up  what  we  have  already  said,  we 
see  that  the  first,  fourth  and  seventh  attitudes  are 
directly  toward  the  object ;  that  the  second,  fifth  and 
eighth  bend  obliquely  toward  the  object ;  and,  finally, 


ATTITUDES   OF  THE   HEAD.  47 1 

that  the  third,  sixth  and  ninth  are  the  result  of  an 
obHque  inclination  away  from  the  object. 

Note. — It  is  to  be  understood  that  the  various 
attitudes  of  the  head  are  asserted  only  in  regard  to 
the  direction  taken  by  the  eye.  Thus  it  is  not  abso- 
lutely true  to  say  that  the  head  is  in  the  eccentric 
state  because  it  is  raised ;  for  it  may  be  that,  raised 
as  it  is,  the  direction  of  the  eye  may  be  even  higher 
than  it,  and,  in  that  case,  the  head  might,  although 
raised,  present  the  aspect  of  the  concentric  state. 
Then  it  would  be  true  to  say  that  the  head  presents 
the  concentric  state  in  a  high  direction. 


ATTITUDES  OF  THE  HANDS. 

The  hands,  Hke  the  legs,  have  three  kinds  of  atti- 
tudes. They  open  without  effort  and  present  the 
normal  state ;  they  close  and  present  the  concentric 
state ;  then  they  open  forcibly  and  present  the  ec- 
centric state.  These  three  kinds  of  attitudes  produce 
nine  forms. 

1.  The  first  is  characteristic  of  acceptance.  In 
this  the  hand  is  presented  open  without  effort,  the 
fingers  close  together  and  the  palm  up. 

2.  The  second  is  characteristic  of  caressing.  In 
this  attitude  the  palm  of  the  hand  faces  the  object 
considered  and  gently  follows  its  forms. 

3.  The  third  is  characteristic  of  negation.  This 
attitude  is  executed  in  the  following  fashion :  The 
arm  and  hand  are  placed  as  in  caressing ;  but,  in- 
stead of  following  the  form  of  the  object,  the  hand 
rids  itself  of  it  by  a  rotary  movement,  thus  placing 
the  palm  in  a  lateral  direction. 

4.  This  attitude  is  executed  with  the  closed  fist, 
the  arm  hanging  naturally,  that  is,  without  any  ac- 
tion determined  by  the  will. 

5.  The  fifth  is  characteristic  of  will.  This  attitude 
consists  in  carrying  the  fist  forward,  the  back  up. 

6.  The  sixth  attitude  is  characteristic  of  menace. 
This  attitude  is  effected  by  an  outward  rotary  move- 
ment compressed  in  the  fist,  so  that,  contrary  to  the 
will,  the  back  of  the  hand  is  down. 


ATTITUDES    OF  THE   HANT^S.  473 

7.  The  seventh  is  characteristic  of  desire.  The 
hand,  in  this  attitude,  moves  forward  as  in  the  first, 
but  with  the  difference  that  here  the  fingers  are 
spread  apart,  this  spreading  signifying  "  I  do  not 
possess,"  expresses  desire.  There  is,  by  the  fact  of 
the  advance  of  the  hand,  aspiration  and  not  pos- 
session. 

8.  The  eighth  is  characteristic  of  imprecation.  It 
consists  in  stretching  the  palm  of  the  hand  toward 
the  object  as  in  a  caress,  but  with  this  difference, 
that  the  fingers  are  spread  apart,  thus  offering  a  re- 
pulsive aspect. 

9.  The  ninth  is  characteristic  of  refusal,  repulsion. 
It  consists  in  carrying  the  hand  obliquely  as  in  ne- 
gation, observing  the  spreading  of  the  fingers  which 
characterizes  this  species. 

Affirmatiofi — The  Hand. 

To  make  the  demonstration  of  the  different  affir- 
mations of  the  hand  more  clear,  we  employ  the  cube 
which,  as  is  well  known,  has  six  faces,  eight  angles, 
and  twelve  edges. 

When  the  hand  is  placed  upon  a  flat  surface  the 
affirmation  is  simple ;  when  the  hand  is  placed  upon 
an  angle  the  affirmation  is  triple  or  common  to  three 
faces  or  surfaces.  There  are  three  directions  in  the 
cube  :  Horizontal,  vertical  and  transverse.  So,  too, 
there  are  three  directions  possible  for  the  hand  in 
relation  to  the  body ; 


474  DELSARTE  S   OWN  WORDS. 

1.  Abduction — which  removes, 

2.  Adduction — which  brings  close,  and 

3.  The  normal  direction. 

There  are  three  sorts  of  adduction,  three  sorts  of 
abduction,  and  three  sorts  of  normal  direction. 

There  are  three  horizontal,  three  vertical  and 
three  transverse  directions  ;  hence  nine  terms  appli- 
cable to  the  nine  modes  of  presenting  the  hand  in 
connection  with  the  cube,  which  are : 


/ 

Upper  Surface. 

/ 

/ 

To  hold. 

/ 

Front  Surface. 

i 

To  retain. 

s 

U 

§ 

< 

Limit.             "— 
Obt^.              j 

Back  Surface. 
1  ,     To  maintain. 
Contain.       ^  1 

/ 

° 

Lower  Surface. 

/ 

/ 

To  sustain. 

/ 

ATTITUDES    OF  THE   HANDS.  475 

TABLE  OF  THE   NORMAL  CHARACTER  OF  THESE   NINE  ATTITUDES. 

C  2.  Concentric Conflict. 

2.  Concentro.  <  3.  Normal Power. 

(  I.  Eccentric Convulsion. 

C  2.  Concentric Prostration. 

3.  Normo <  3.  Normal Abandon. 

(  I.  Eccentric Expansion. 

C  2.  Concentric Execration. 

I.  Eccentro  -  <  3.  Normal Exaltation. 

(  I .  Eccentric Exasperation. 

These  nine  physiognomies  of  the  hand  modify 
those  of  the  face,  often  supply  their  place  and  some- 
times even  contradict  them.  When  they  are  appro- 
priate to  the  hand  and  face  alike,  there  is  homoge- 
neity. The  expression  of  the  hands  results  from  the 
cooperation  of  three  orders  of  phenomena.  The 
first  order  comprises  the  intrinsic  physiognomies  as- 
sumed by  the  hand  under  the  influence  of  the  pas- 
sions. The  second  order  comprises  the  attitudes 
assumed  by  the  hand  toward  the  object  of  the  pas- 
sion. The  third  order  comprises  the  evolutions 
impressed  upon  the  hand  by  the  body,  fore-arm  and 
shoulder.     These  evolutions  are  so  many  inflections. 

We  know  the  nine  attitudes  appropriate  to  the 
hand,  and  the  nine  attitudes  designated  by  the  nine 
modes  of  presentation  of  the  hand  in  regard  to  the 
cubic  surfaces.  We  must  examine  the  nine  inflec- 
tions which  arise  in  the  first  instance  from  the  three 
directions,  antero-posterior,  vertical  and  transverse. 

These  inflections  again  include  three  movements 
of  three  kinds:  Direct  movements,  circular  move- 


476  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

ments  and  oblique  movements.  These  movements 
are  produced  by  three  sorts  of  action:  Sectional 
action,  rotary  action  and  translative  action. 

To  recapitulate :  These  physiognomies,  attitudes 
and  inflections  form  by  their  combination  the  multi- 
farious expressions  of  which  the  hand  is  capable,  as 
are  all  parts  of  the  body. 

Having  spoken  of  the  affirmations  of  the  hand,  we 
must  speak  of  its  degree  of  certainty  of  which  the 
arm  is  the  thermometer.  This  affirmation  varies 
with  the  angle  formed  by  the  fore-arm  with  the  arm. 
All  these  modes  of  affirmation  may  be  appHed  to 
negation. 


ATTITUDES  OF  THE  LEGS. 

1.  The  first  attitude  is  normal;  it  consists  of  an 
equal  balance  of  the  weight  of  the  body  on  the  two 
legs.  This  attitude  is  that  of  the  soldier  carrying 
arms,  without  the  stififness  assumed  by  the  wilful 
regularity  of  rigid  discipline.  It  is  also  that  attitude 
taken  by  a  man  in  the  act  of  salutation ;  it  is  also 
characteristic  of  the  weakness  of  a  child  or  of  old 
age ;  it  is  the  sign  of  respect.  *  [Compare  Delau- 
mosne,  p.   lOO.] 

2.  The  second  attitude  is  characteristic  of  repose 
in  strength.  The  weight  of  the  body  is  thrown 
upon  one  hip,  the  free  leg  being  carried  forward- 
This  change  should  be  effected  without  tension  or 
stiffness.  This  attitude  is  also  characteristic  of  cer- 
tain concentric  passions  hidden  under  seeming  calm. 

3.  This  attitude  is  characteristic  of  vehemence, 
of  which  it  is  the  type.  It  is  preeminently  the  ec- 
centric attitude.  It  consists  in  carrying  the  whole 
weight  of  the  body  forward,  the  backward  leg  ex- 
tended in  equal  proportion  to  the  forward  poise  of 
the  torso. 

4.  This  attitude  is  characteristic  of  the  weakness 
which  follows  vehemence.  It  is  the  type  of  concen- 
tration ;  it  is  also  in  character  as  in  species  the  antip- 
odes of  the  third  attitude,  since  it  is  its  resolute 
expression.     This  attitude  consists  in  throwing  the 


478  delsarte's  own  words. 

whole  weight  of  the  body  backward,  contrary  to  the 
preceding  attitude  where  the  body  was  brought 
forward,  and  in  bending  the  leg  which  bears  the 
weight  of  the  body,  which  is  also  the  reverse  of  the 
preceding  attitude,  where  the  leg  is  extended.  This 
attitude  is  nearly  that  of  the  fencing-master ;  it  dif- 
fers, however,  in  the  position  of  the  backward  foot, 
which,  in  fencing,  is  turned  outward.  The  regularity 
of  this  attitude  may  be  verified  by  kneeling,  which 
is  its  paroxysm.  If  the  attitude  is  well  done  it  leads 
to  it  naturally. 

5.  The  fifth  attitude  serves  as  a  preparation  for 
oblique  steps ;  it  is  also  colorless,  transitive,  suspen- 
sive. It  ends  all  the  angles  formed  by  walking. 
We  may  define  this  attitude  as  a,  third  transversal ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  free  leg,  instead  of  being  behind 
as  in  the  third,  is  impassive,  so  that  the  body,  instead 
of  being  advanced,  should  be  slightly  inclined  to  one 
side. 

6.  The  sixth  attitude  is  an  attitude  of  pomp  and 
ceremony.  It  is  only  assumed  in  the  presence  of 
kings,  princes,  or  persons  for  whom  we  have  great 
respect.  We  will  define  this  attitude  as  a  third 
crossed  proceeding  from  the  fifth ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  free  leg  of  the  fifth  becomes  the  strong  leg 
moving  sidewise  and  slightly  forward,  thus  crossing 
the  back  leg. 

7.  The  seventh  attitude  is  an  attitude  character- 
istic of  absolute  repose.  It  is  the  strongest  attitude, 
and,  consequently,  that  assumed  by  intoxication  to 


ATTITUDES   OF  THE   LEGS.  479 

resist  a  lack  of  equilibrium.     It  is   the   attitude  of 
vertigo,  or  of  extreme  trust. 

Do  not  be  surprised  by  the  bringing  together  of 
these  very  different  and  opposite  terms  in  one  and 
the  same  attitude.  It  is  a  sufficient  explanation  to 
say  that  the  strong  attitude  is  sought  out  by  weak- 
ness as  a  weak  attitude  is  sought  by  strength.  This 
attitude  consists  in  the  division  of  the  weight  of  the 
body  between  both  legs,  which  are  spread  wide  apart 
in  parallel  directions.  This  attitude  would  be  im- 
proper in  a  parlor. 

8.  The  eighth  attitude  is  an  attitude  characteristic 
of  the  alternation  between  the  offender  and  defender. 
It  is  the  exact  medium  between  the  third  and 
fourth;  it,  therefore,  expresses  moral  as  well  as 
physical  alternation.  A  man  placed  between  the 
offensive  and  the  defensive  always  assumes  this  atti- 
tude as  if  to  sound  the  resources  of  his  courage  in 
face  of  an  enemy  stronger  than  himself;  in  this  atti- 
tude he  may  advance  or  recede.  This  attitude  is  a 
seventh,  whose  direction,  instead  of  being  lateral,  is 
parallel  to  the  body  and  antero-posterior.  In  this 
position  the  body  faces  the  forward  leg,  both  legs 
being  spread  wide  apart,  as  in  the  seventh,  both  re- 
ceive an  equal  portion  of  the  weight  of  the  body. 

9.  The  ninth  attitude  is  characteristic  of  defiance. 
This  attitude  is  a  stiff  second.  It  differs  only  in 
that  the  free  leg  is  rigid  instead  of  being  bent  as  in 
the  second.  To  execute  this  attitude  thoroughly 
well  the  free  leg  must  be  stretched  to  the  very  ut- 


48o 


delsarte's  own  words. 


most,  without  allowing  the  strong  leg  to  bend  as  in 
the  fourth,  which  is  the  only  attitude  where  the 
strong  leg  should  be  bent.  To  prevent  this  flexion, 
the  body  must  be  carried  well  over  on  the  hip  of  the 
strong  leg,  so  that  the  side  of  the  free  leg  may  be 
elongated. 

Chart  Considered  -from  the  Organic  Point  of  View, 


KCBMTliO  ECCEN 


CONCENTRd  NORMAL 


ENTROCONCENTRW 


2.  The  Son, 

3.  The  Holy  Ghost, 
I.  The  Father. 

Having  examined  the  table  organically,  we  will 
study  it  essentially. 

EXAMPLE. 

What  we  have  called  eccentric,  concentric  and 
normal,  we  will  call  vitality,  intellectuality  and  spirit- 
uality ;  lastly,  having  established  this  table  from  the 
organic  and  the  essential  point  of  view,  it  remains 
for  us  to  examine  it  aesthetically  and  from  a  practi- 
cal point  of  view.  .— .^-^ 


CONSIDERATION   OF  CHARTS.  48 1 

Let  US  first  examine  a  few  gestures,  for  instance : 

Of  the  Hand. 

3  colorless  state  abandonment 


expansion  i 
3  exaltation 


exasperation  execration        convulsive  state  struggle 


Of  the  Eye, 

abandonment 


indifference 
stupor 


moroseness 


depression  or  somnolence 


surprise 


firmness  contempt        contention  of  mind 


31 


482 


delsarte's  own  words. 


Of  the  Torso, 

dynamic  apparatus 


head 
veil  of  the  palate 


month  lips 


tongue 


Esthetic  Division. 

3  pure  spirituality 


-^talsoul  I 


3  spiritual  life 


2  intellectual  soul 

3  spiritual  intellect 


animal  life  intellectual  life        animal  intellect      mental  intellect 


CONSIDERATION  OF  CHARTS. 


483 


Human  Hypostases 


Divine  Attributes 


Light 
Love 
Power. 


(  Science 
Worlds  <  Grace 
(  Nature 

C  The  mind  (  distinguishes 
Functions  <  The  soul  <  reunites 
(  The  life    (  asserts 


(  Understanding 
Faculties  ^  Will 

(  Memory. 


(  Speculative 
Reasons  <  Final 

(  Seminal 


Theological  Virtues 


Trial  generates  faith 
Tribulation  generates  experience 
I  Fulfilment  generates  charity 


THE   HOLY  TRINITY  RECOVERED  IN 
SOUND. 

Sound  is  the  reflection  of  the  Divine  image.  In 
sound  there  are  three  reflex  images :  The  reflex  of 
life;  of  the  intellect;  and  of  love.  They  result 
from  the  parallel  and  simultaneous  action  of  three 
agents:  The  projective  (life),  reflective  (intellect) > 
and  vibrative  (love). 

Sound  contains  three  sounds ;  That  of  the  tonic, 
the  dominant,  and  the  mediant.  The  tonic  (Father) 
necessarily  generates  the  dominant  (Son),  and  the 
mediant  (Holy  Ghost)  proceeds  necessarily  from 
the  first  two. 

Pythagoras  discovered  this  law.  Passing  before 
a  blacksmith's  shop,  he  heard  the  sound  of  heavy 
hammer  strokes  upon  a  forge.  He  recognized  per- 
fectly that  each  blow  gave  out  beside  the  principal 
tone  (tonic)  two  other  tones,  which  corresponded  to 
the  twelfth  and  seventeenth  of  the  tonic.  Now,  the 
twelfth  reversed  is  nothing  but  the  fifth  or  dominant, 
and  the  seventeenth  becomes,  by  a  double  reversion, 
the  third  or  mediant  of  the  tonic. 

Let  us  say,  then,  that  every  tone  necessarily  con- 
tains the  tonic  its  generator,  the  dominant  its  engen- 
dered, and  the  mediant  which  proceeds  from  the 
other  two.  The  reunion  of  these  three  tones  which 
makes   them   into   one,    forms   the   perfect   chord. 


THE  HOLY  TRINITY  RECOVERED   IN  SOUND.      485 

Full  and  absolute  consonance  is  the  expression  of 
union,  of  love,  of  order,  of  harmony,  of  peace;  it 
is  the  return  to  the  source  of  goodness,  to  God. 

If  a  fourth  form  should  be  added  to  the  perfect 
chord,  to  consonance,  there  would  necessarily  be  a 
dissonance.  This  fourth  can  only  enter  by  an  effort, 
almost  by  violence.  It  is  outside  of  plenitude,  of 
the  calm  estabhshed  by  the  Divine  law;  it  produces 
a  painful  sensation,  a  dissonance.  As  soon  as  there 
is  a  discord,  a  dissonance,  the  animal  cries  out,  the 
dog  howls,  inert  bodies  suffer  and  vibrate;  but  all 
is  order  and  calm  .again  when  consonance  returns. 


SPEECH. 

Speech  is  an  act  posterior  to  will,  itself  posterior 
to  love ;  this  again  posterior  to  judgment,  posterior 
in  its  turn  to  memory,  which,  finally,  is  posterior  to 
the  impression. 

Every  impression,  to  become  a  sensation,  must 
first  be  perceived  by  the  intelligence,  and  thus  we 
may  say  of  the  sensation  that  it  is  a  definite  impres- 
sion. But,  to  be  definite,  it  must  pass  into  the  do- 
main of  memory  and  there  solicit  the  reappearance 
of  its  congeners  with  which  it  may  identify  itself. 
It  is  in  this  apparatus  and  surrounded  by  this  throng 
of  homogeneous  impressions  which  gather  round  it, 
as  if  by  magic,  or  rather  which  it  draws  about  it  as 
the  magnet  draws  the  iron,  it  is,  I  say,  in  this  com- 
plex state  that  it  appears  before  the  intelligence  to 
receive  from  the  latter  a  fitting  name.  For  the  in- 
telligence could  not  give  it  a  name  if  the  homoge- 
neous impressions  in  which  it  has,  so  to  speak, 
arrayed  itself,  did  not  serve  to  point  it  out. 

Now,  by  this  distinction,  established  by  the  double 
operation  of  the  memory  and  the  intelligence,  a 
movement  takes  place  in  the  soul,  of  attraction,  if 
the  intelligence  approve ;  or  of  repulsion,  if  it  dis- 
approve. This  movement  is  called  the  will.  The 
will,  therefore,  becomes  the  active  principle  in  virtue 
of  which  speech  is  expressed ;  thus  speech  is  the 


SPEECH.  487 

express  agent  of  the  will.  It  is  speech,  in  fact, 
which,  under  the  incubation  of  this  mysterious 
power,  rules,  groups  and  moves  bodies  with  the  aid 
of  memory. 

Inflection  is  the  life  of  speech ;  the  mind  lies  in 
the  articulative  values,  in  the  distribution  of  these 
articulations  and  their  progressions.  The  soul  of 
speech  is  in  gesture. 


BREATHING. 

Breathing,  according  to  its  form  of  production,  is : 
(i)  Costal  or  combined;  (2)  diaphragmatic;  (3) 
costo-diaphragmatic. 

Breathing  is  a  triple  act  based  upon  three  phe- 
nomena :  Inspiration,  suspension,  expiration.  From 
the  successive  predominance  of  each  of  these  three 
phenomena,  or  from  their  equal  balance,  result 
eighty-one  respiratory  acts,  which  may  be  reduced 
to  three  terms :  The  breathing  is  normal^  spasmodic^ 
or  sibilant. 

There  are  three  questions  to  be  considered  in 
regard  to  breathing: 

1 .  How  should  it,  the  breath,  be  produced  to  gain 
the  greatest  development  for  the  voice? 

2.  What  place  should  it  occupy  in  speech? 

3.  What  aspect  does  it  assume  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  passions? 

In  other  words,  three  characters  may  be  attributed 
to  respiration :  Vocal,  logical,  pathetic  or  passional. 

Vocal  Respiration. 
The  lungs  constantly  contain  a  quantity  of  air, 
which  is  the  source  of  life  and  with  which  we  can- 
not dispense  without  inconvenience  to  health  and  to 
the  voice.  The  quantity  of  air  requisite  for  the 
renewing  of  the  blood,  and  which  is  called  the 
breath   of  life,   amounts   to   a   third   of  what   the 


BREATHING.  489 

lungs  are  capable  of  receiving.  In  order  to  sing, 
therefore,  it  iflust  be  increased  by  two-thirds,  and  it 
is  this  borrowed  breath  only  which  should  be  given 
out  in  singing.  When  the  lungs  are  thus  filled  with 
air,  the  sound  is  produced  by  escapement.  From 
this  it  receives  greater  force,  and  its  production,  far 
from  being  a  fatigue,  becomes  a  relief. 

Inspiration  should  always  be  followed  by  a  sus- 
pensive silence ;  otherwise  the  lungs,  agitated  by 
the  act  of  inspiration,  perform  the  expiration  badly. 

Logical  Respiration. 

Logical  respiration  constitutes  the  respiration 
itself.  Suspension  expresses  reticence,  disquietude. 
Inspiration  is  an  element  of  dissimulation,  concen- 
tration, pain.  Hence,  we  have  normal,  oppressive, 
spasmodic,  superior,  sibilant,  rattling,  intermittent, 
crackling,  and  hiccoughing  respiration. 

Expiration  is  an  element  of  trust,  expansion,  con- 
fidence and  tenderness.  If  the  expression  contains 
both  pain  and  love,  the  inspiration  and  expiration 
will  both  be  noisy ;  but  the  one  or  the  other  will 
predominate  according  as  pain  predominates  over 
love,  or  vice  versa. 

Passional  Respiration. 
The  source  of  passional  respiration  lies  in  the 
agitation  of  the  heart.  The  efTect  of  respiration  is 
most  powerful,  for  the  slighter  and  more  impercep- 
tible the  phenomena  are,  the  more  effect  they  have 
upon  the  auditors. 


VOCAL  ORGAN. 

The  organ  assumes  at  birth  a  form ;  this  form  is 
called  the  timbre  or  tone.  This  tone  corresponds 
to  the  constitutional  form.  Under  the  sway  of 
habit,  the  form  assumes  an  acquired  tone  which  is 
called  emission.  The  emissive  form  corresponds  to 
the  habitual  tone.  Under  the  sway  of  emotion  the 
voice  is  modulated  and  assumes  forms  which  we  will 
call  passional  or  transitory. 

The  mouth  is  normal,  concentric  and  eccentric. 
[See  chart  in  Delaumosne,  page  8i.] 

From  these  three  types  we  have  succeeded  in  fix- 
ing and  classifying  forty-eight  million  phenomena. 


DEFINITION  OF  THE  VOICE. 

The  voice  is  the  essential  element  in  singing.  It 
is  based  upon  sound.  This  is  based  upon  three 
agents ; 

The  projective  agent,  or  the  lungs. 
The  vibrative  agent,  or  the  larnyx. 
The  reverberative  agent,  or  the  mouth. 
Each  of  these  agents  acts  in  different  ways,  nine 
acts  resulting  therefrom,  which  we  will  call  products 
of  phonetic  acts. 

The  projective  agent  in  its  special  activities  en- 
genders 

Intensities, 
Shades, 
Respirations. 
The  vibrative  agent  in  its  special  activities  en- 
genders 

Prolations, 
Pathetic  effects, 
Registers. 
The  reverberative  agent  in  its  special  activities 
engenders 

Emissions, 
Articulations, 
Vowels. 
To  recapitulate,  the  phonetic  agents  give  us  nine 
products ;   but,  when  studied  from   the  vocal  point 


492  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

of  view,  these  products  become  as  many  elements 
and  must  be  examined  from  the  triple  point  of  view 
of  preparatory,  practical  and  transcendant  studies. 
We  must,  therefore,  know  first  the  general  definition 
of  these  elements,  their  cause  and  their  theoretical 
history,  which  constitutes  phonology  or  the  pre- 
paratory study  of  the  voice. 

Secondly,  we  must  know  the  physical  order  in 
virtue  of  which  these  phenomena  may  be  acquired 
or  developed.  The  various  special  exercises  and 
the  vices  to  be  avoided  constitute  phonation  or  the 
practical  study  of  the  voice. 

Thirdly,  we  must  know  and  appreciate  the  physi- 
ological, intellectual  and  moral  meaning  of  these 
elements,  the  different  relations  of  resemblance,  of 
opposition  and  of  identity  which  exist  between  these 
different  phenomena. 

The  modes  of  application  or  principles  of  style 
form  the  transcendent  study  or  aesthesiophony,  that 
is,  the  voice  appHed  to  feeling,  etc. 


What  the  Register  is. 

The  register  is  an  intrinsic  modification  of  the 
sound;  a  modification  which  is  prbduced  in  the 
larynx  itself  and  which  does  not  belong  to  the 
mouth.  Now,  we  may  say  of  registers  that  they  are 
to  the  larn>Tc  what  emissions  are  to  the  mouth. 
Thus  registers  form  a  physiognomy  which  the  sound 
assumes  in  the  larynx,  and  emissions  form  the  phys- 


DEFINITION  OF  THE  VOICE.  493 

iognomy   which  that  same  sound  takes  on  in  the 
mouth. 

On   Shading. 

Light  and  shade  are  not,  as  has  been  asserted, 
subject  to  the  arbitration  or  inspiration  of  the  mo- 
ment.. They  are  ruled  by  laws ;  for  in  art  there  is 
not  a  single  phenomenon  which  is  not  subject  to  ab- 
solute mathematical  laws.  A  knowledge  of  these 
laws  is  important,  the  art  of  shading  forming  the 
basis  of  style. 

The  opinion  which  makes  the  ascending  phrase 
progressive  is  false  six  times  out  of  seven.  It  is 
only  correct  in  the  following  cases : 

1 .  If  an  ascending  phrase  encounters  no  repeated 
and  no  dissonant  note  it  is  progressive,  and  the  cul- 
minating note  is  the  most  intense.  It  has  one  de- 
gree of  intensity. 

2.  If  we  find  a  note  repeated  in  the  ascending 
phrase,  that  note,  even  if  it  be  the  lowest  of  all, 
must  be  made  more  important  than  the  highest  note 
and  will  have  two  degrees  of  intensity.  In  this 
case,  the  higher  the  voice  rises  the  softer  it  must 
become ;  for  there  cannot  be  more  than  one  culmi- 
nating point  in  a  musical  phrase  any  more  than  in  a 
logical  or  mimetic  phrase.  All  sounds  must,  there- 
fore, diminish  in  proportion  to  their  distance  from 
this  centre  of  expression,  from  this  repeated  note. 
The  reason  of  the  intensity  of  a  repeated  note  lies 
in  the  fact  that  we  repeat  only  that  thing  which  we 
desire,  and  this  intensity  gives  it  a  greater  value. 


494  delsarte's  own  words. 

3.  If  the  repeated  riote  be  at  the  same  time  the 
culminating  note,  it  will  require  a  new  degree  of  in- 
tensity.    It  will  have  three  degrees  of  intensity. 

4.  We  may  possibly  find  a  dissonant  note  in  the 
ascending  phrase,  with  a  repeated  culminating  note. 
(This  note  would,  then,  be  more  than  an  indication ; 
it  would  receive  an  adjective  form  from  the  accident, 
assuming  in  the  musical  phrase  the  value  that  an 
adjective  would  have  in  a  logical  phrase.)  Its  in- 
tensity, therefore,  would  be  greater  than  that  of  the 
highest  repeated  note,  and  it  would  have  four  degrees 
of  intensity. 

5.  If  the  dissonant  note  is  also  the  highest  note, 
it  acquires  from  that  position  a  fifth  degree  of  in- 
tensity. 

6.  It  may  happen  that  the  dissonant  note  appear- 
ing in  a  rising  phrase  is  repeated ;  by  reason  of  this 
repetition  it  would  receive  a  sixth  degree  of  in- 
tensity. 

7.  Finally,  if  the  dissonant  note  is  at  the  same 
time  culminating  and  repeated,  it  has  seven  degrees 
of  intensity. 

Pathetic  Effects, 

Pathetic  effects  are  nine  in  number,  the  principal 
of  which  are  as  follows :  The  veiled  tone ;  the  flat 
or  compressed  tone ;  the  smothered  tone ;  the  rag- 
ged tone ;  the  vibrant  tone.  The  last  is  the  most 
powerful. 

Vibration  or  tremolo,  bad  when  produced  invol- 
untarily by  the  singer,  becomes  a  brilliant  quaHty 


DEFINITION   OF  THE  VOICE.  495 

when  it  is  voluntary  and  used  at  an  opportune  time. 
Every  break  must  be  preceded  by  a  vibration,  which 
prepares  the  way  for  it. 

Prolations  are  laryngeal  articulations.  Great  care 
must  be  taken  not  to  substitute  pectoral  articula- 
tions for  them. 

The  chest  is  a  passive  agent;  it  should  furnish 
nothing  but  the  breath.  The  mouth  and  the  larynx 
alone  are  entitled  to  act. 

On  the  Tearing  of  the  Voice. 
Exuberance  of  the  contained  brings  on  destruc- 
tion of  that  which  contains  it.  Tearing  of  the  voice, 
therefore,  should  only  be  associated  with  an  exces- 
sive extension  of  the  sound  whose  intensity,  as  we 
have  demonstrated,  is  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  dra- 
matic proportion. 


NUMBER. 

The  figure  i  is  characteristic  of  unity  and  meas- 
ure. The  figure  2,  which  is  the  measure  in  the  i, 
should  become  subordinate  in  its  greatness  and  be 
equal  with  it.  It  is  another  one  which  gives  birth 
to  the  idea  of  number. 

The  idea  of  number  can  only  arise  from  the  pres- 
ence of  terms  of  the  same  nature.  Thus  the  idea 
of  number  cannot  arise  from  the  presence  of  a  cart 
and  a  toad.  We  shall  thus  have  two  very  distinct 
unities,  having  no  kind  of  relation  to  each  other. 
There  must,  therefore,  be  equality  before  there  can 
be  number.  This  is  so  true  that  we  cannot  say  of 
a  man  and  a  child  that  they  are  two  men  or  two 
children,  because  the  one  is  not  equal  to  the  other. 
It  is,  therefore,  from  the  point  of  an  attributive 
equality  that  we  are  enabled  to  say :  They  are  two. 
But  we  can  say :  There  are  two  beings,  because 
in  regard  to  being  they  are  equal  one  to  the  other. 
We  now  understand  how  two  equals  one,  that  the 
two  figures  have  an  equal  importance,  and  that  the 
figure  I  contains  exclusively  the  idea  of  measure ; 
the  figure  2  contains  the  idea  of  number,  which  is 
not  in  the  i,  this  being  the  characteristic  feature  by 
which  the  two  terms  differ. 

Now,  how  are  we  to  form  a  perfect  unity  between 
these  two  equal  but  distinct  terms  ? 


NUMBER.  497 

A  single  operation  will  suffice  to  give  us  the  idea 
we  wish,  and  this  operation  is  revealed  to  us  entire 
in  the  word  weight.  In  fact,  the  two  terms  can  only 
be  united  by  this  word.  We  feel  that  i  and  2  give 
us  a  common  weight,  the  sum  of  which  is  repre- 
sented by  the  figure  3.  The  figure  3  is,  therefore, 
equal  in  importance  to  i  and  to  2 ;  it  maintains 
equality  in  the  terms  of  which  it  is  the  representa- 
tive, and  its  characteristic  feature  is  equally  impor- 
tant with  those  already  described. 

Thus  to  the  figure  i  belongs  the  idea  of  measure; 
to  the  figure  2  belongs  the  idea  of  number ;  to  the 
figure  3  belongs  exclusively  the  idea  of  reunion,  of 
community,  of  unity  in  fine,  which  no  other  figure 
can  reveal  to  us.  We  may  say :  i  and  i  are  equal 
among  themselves,  in  the  unity  of  the  figure  3  ;  or, 
in  other  words:  Measure  and  number  find  their 
unity  in  weight. 
32 


MEDALLION    OF    INFLECTION.     (Compare 
Delaumosne,  page  119.) 


Explanation. — ^The  vertical  line  i  (from  top  to 
bottom)  expresses  affirmation,  confirmation ;  2,  the 
horizontal  line,  expresses  negation.  The  oblique 
lines,  3  and  4,  from  within  outward  and  from  with- 
out inward,  express  rejection.  4,  an  oblique  line 
from  within  outward  rejects  things  which  we  despise. 
3,  a  line  from  within  outward,  rejects  things  which 
oppress  us  and  of  which  we  wish  to  get  rid. 
5,  the  quadrant  of  a  circle,  whose  form  recalls 
that  of  a  hammock,  expresses  well-being,  con- 
tentment, confidence  and  happiness.  6,  a  similar 
quadrant  of  a  circle,  an  eccentric  curvilinear,  ex- 
presses   secrecy,   silence,   domination,   persuasion, 


MEDALLION  OF  INFLECTION. 


499 


stability,  imposition,  inclosure.  The  reentering 
external  curvilinear  quadrant  of  a  circle,  7,  ex- 
presses graceful,  delicate  things.  Produced  in 
two  ways,  from  above  downward,  it  expresses  physi- 
cal delicacy;  from  below  upward,  moral  and  intel- 
lectual delicacy.  The  external  quadrant  of  a  circle, 
8,  expresses  exuberance  and  plenitude,  amplitude 
and  generosity.  The  circular  line  surrounding  and 
embracing  is  characteristic  of  glorification  and  ex- 
altation. 


EXAMfcJf-ES. 

1.  You  may  believe 

2.  That  none,  oh  Lord, 

3.  Had  such  glory, 

4.  Or  such  happiness. 


Thy  voice,  brother, 
cannot  be  heard. 


5  op 


DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 


After  such  a  marvel 
one  might  beheve  a  thou- 
sand others 
without  raising  his  eyebrows. 


The  other  was  a  perfect 
master  of  the  art  of  cheat- 
ing. 


Remark. — These  inflections  being  produced,  it 
is  essential  to  know  the  centre  from  which  they  em- 


MEDALLION   OF  INFLECTION.  501 

anate.  The  amplitude  of  the  circle  described  must 
be  in  harmony  with  the  object  in  question.  Thus  a 
circle  may  be  produced  with  the  entire  arm,  and 
glorification  is  the  thing  in  question. 

grace,  elegance 


charm,  elevation 


Light  and  amiable.  Light  and  spiritual. 

The  half  quarter  of  a  circle  characteristic  of  exu- 
berance combined  with  the  half  quarter  circle  char- 
acteristic of  delicacy,  expre  ses  grace.     It  is  delicacy 


502 


DELSARTE  S   OWN   WORDS. 


mixed  with  abundance ;  tenuity  supported  by  gen- 
erosity. 

The    rejection   of   a 
contemptible  thing  (4) 
concluded    by    happi- 
ness, well-being  (5)  sig- 
nifies that  repose  will  not  be  pur- 
chased at  the  cost  of  a  contemptible 
thing. 

^      The  possession  of 
happiness. 


The  3  combined 
with  the  5  rejection 
of  an  illusory  happi- 
ness. 


Note. — The  figures  3,  4,  5,  6,  refer  to  the  corres- 
ponding figures  in  the  Medallion  of  Inflection. 

The  hand  placed  horizontally,  the  back  upper- 
most pirouetting  on  the  wrist  alternately  in  prona- 
tion and  supination,  thus  passing  from  force  to 
feebleness  and  from  feebleness  to  force,  character- 
izes irritability.     [Compare  Delaumosne,  pages  1 14- 

118.] 


CHAET  OF  THE  ANGELS, 

ANGELIC   NATURE. 

'of 


^^OTOTVPt 


CHART  OF  MAN. 

HUMAN  NATURE. 
OF 


o 
c: 


'rr7 


TYpe 


THE  NATURE  OF  THE  COLORS  OF  EACH 
CIRCLE  IN  THE  COLOR  CHARTS. 

Redy  Blue  and  Yellow, 

Red  is  the  color  of  life.  Indeed,  this  is  asserted 
by  fire,  by  the  heat  of  the  blood. 

Blue  is  the  color  of  the  mind.  Is  not  blue  the 
color  of  the  sky,  the  home  of  pure  intellects,  set 
free  from  the  body,  who  see  and  know  all  things? 
To  them  everything  is  in  the  light. 

Yellow  is  the  color  of  the  soul.  Yellow  is  the 
color  of  flame. 

Flame  contains  the  warmth  of  life  and  the  light 
of  the  mind.  As  the  soul  contains  and  unites  the 
life  and  the  mind,  so  the  flame  warms  and  shines. 
[Compare  Delarmosne,  page  157.] 


THE  ATTRIBUTES  OF  REASON. 


The  human  reason,  that  haughty  faculty,  deified 
in  our  age  by  a  myriad  of  perverse  and  commonplace 
minds  known  under  the  derisive  and  doubly  vain 
title  of  freethinkers,  is  but  blind,  despite  its  high 
opinion  of  its  own  insight.  Yes,  and  we  affirm  by 
certain  intuition  that  man's  reason  is  not  and  cannot 
be  otherwise  than  blind,  aside  from  the  revealing 
principle  which  only  enlightens  it  in  proportion  to 
its  subordination;  for,  abandoned  to  itself,  reason 
can  only  err  and  must  fatally  fall  into  an  abyss  of 
illusions. 

The  melancholy  age  in  which  we  live  but  too  often 
offers  us  an  example  of  the  lamentable  mistakes  into 
which  we  are  hurried  by  misguided  reason,  which, 
yielding  to  a  criminal  presumption,  deserts  without 
remorse  the  principle  super-abounding  in  life,  light 
and  glory. 

To  understand  such  an  anomaly,  to  explain  how 
reason,  which  constitutes  one  of  the  highest  attri- 


THE  ATTRIBUTES    OF   REASON.  505 

butes  of  man,  is  so  far  subject  to  error,  it  is  essential 
to  have  a  thorough  apprehension  of  the  complexity 
of  its  nature.  What,  then,  is  the  real  nature  of  the 
reason  so  little  studied  and  so  illy  known  by  those 
very  men  who  raise  altars  in  its  honor?  Let  us  try 
to  produce  a  clear  demonstration.  And  let  us  first 
say  that  reason  does  not  constitute  a  primary  prin- 
ciple in  man;  for  a  ^nrxidiry  priftciple  could  never 
mistake  its  object.  Neither  is  it  a  primary  faculty; 
it  is  only  the  form  or  the  manner  of  being  of  such 
a  faculty,  and  thus  cannot  be  a  light  in  itself.  The 
rays  by  which  it  shines  are  external  to  it  in  the 
sense  that  it  receives  them  from  the  principle  which 
governs  and  fertilizes  it.  Still,  let  us  say  that, 
although  neither  a  principle  nor  a  faculty,  reason  is 
none  the  less,  with  conscience,  of  which  it  forms  the 
base,  the  noblest  power  of  man  ;  for  this  power  God 
created  free ;  free  from  subjection  to  the  principle 
that  enlightens  it ;  free,  too,  to  escape  from  it.  Yet 
every  power  necessarily  recognizes  a  guiding  princi- 
ple to  whose  service  it  needs  must  bow ;  but  to  rea- 
son alone  it  is  granted  to  avoid  the  law  which  impe- 
riously rules  the  relations  of  the  harmonious  subordi- 
nation of  principiant  faculties  to  their  principles. 
Hence  the  error  or  possible  blindness  of  reason ; 
hence  also  its  incomparable  grandeur,  which  lies 
solely  in  its  free  and  spontaneous  subordination. 
These  principles  established,  let  us  go  still  farther, 
and  penetrate  deeper  into  the  mysterious  genius  of 
reason. 


5o6  delsarte's  own  words. 

St.  Thomas,  in  whom  shone  the  most  perfect  rea- 
son of  which  humanity  can  boast,  was  pre-eminently 
authorized  to  define  reason.  He  did  it  in  terms  at 
once  so  simple,  so  precise,  and  of  such  exquisite 
clarity,  that  we  may  venture  to  think  that  reason 
itself  could  not  have  better  rendered  the  terms  of 
its  own  entity. 

This  definition,  let  no  one  fail  to  see,  contains  in 
its  extreme  brevity  more  substance  than  would  fill 
a  voluminous  treatise.     This,  then,  is  his  definition : 

Reason  is  the  discursive  form  of  the  intellect. 

Now  by  this  St.  Thomas  plainly  establishes  that 
reason,  distinct  from  the  intellect,  with  which  we 
must  beware  of  confounding  it,  proceeds  from  it  as 
effect  proceeds  from  cause.  Therefore,  intellect 
surpasses  reason  as  its  principiant  and  guiding 
faculty ;  and  reason  only  figures  in  the  intelligential 
sphere,  despite  the  important  part  it  plays  in  virtue 
of  its  adjunctive  or  supplementing  power. 

But  what  is  the  purpose  of  this  adjunction? 
Here,  in  reply  to  this  grave  and  important  question, 
let  us  refer  to  what  the  same  scholar  says  elsewhere. 
"  Reason  arises,"  he  says,  **  from  the  failure  of 
intellect."  Certainly  this  is  a  luminous,  and  doubt- 
less a  very  unexpected  proposition.  From  it  we 
learn,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the  intellect  is  liable  to 
defects  and  consequently  to  weaknesses;  on  the 
other  hand,  it  seems  established  that  the  adjunctive 
power  comes  to  aid'  the  faculty  which  governs  it, 


THE  ATTRIBUTES    OF   REASON.  507 

since  here  the  subjected  is  born  of  the  failure  of  the 
subjector. 

Let  us  explain  this  fresh  anomaly.  We  have  in 
the  first  place  declared  the  preceding  proposition 
luminous  in  spite  of  the  obscurity  into  which  we  are 
plunged  by  the  consequences  which  we  have  derived 
from  it ;  but,  patience  !  We  are  already  aware  that 
it  is  from  the  very  obscurity  of  things  that  the 
brightest  light  sometimes  bursts  upon  contempla- 
tive eyes ;  and  since  faith  is  the  next  principle  to 
knowledge,  let  us  have  faith  at  least  in  the  trust- 
worthiness of  him  who  addresses  us,  especially  as 
he  has  given  us  repeated,  unequivocal  tokens  of 
sound  and  upright  reason.  Let  us,  then,  have  no 
doubt  that  the  preceding  proposition  contains  a 
precious  precept ;  and  very  certainly  light  will  soon 
dawn  on  our  mind. 

This  settled,  and  for  the  better  understanding  of 
the  meaning  attached  to  this  proposition,  let  us  call 
to  our  aid  the  powers  of  analogy. 

If  reason  arises  from  the  failure  of  intellect  it  is 
doubtless  to  rectify  the  valuations  of  the  ego.  Now 
the  compass^  which  is  iri  itself  very  inferior  to  the 
hand  which  fashions  it  and  appropriates  it  to  its 
own  use,  nevertheless  implies  a  defect  in  that  hand 
which  directs  it.  So  there  is  between  the  eye  and 
the  telescope,  which  comes  to  its  aid,  all  the  distance 
that  divides  the  faculty  from  the  instrument  which 
it  governs.  Still  the  telescope  joined  to  the  eye 
communicates  to  it  a  great  power  of  vision ;  but  the 


508  DELSARTE'S   OWN   WORDS. 

instrument  arises  from  the  failure  of  the  eye,  which 
is  nevertheless  infinitely  superior  to  it ;  for  it  is  the 
eye  which  sees,  and  not  the  telescope. 

It  is  thus  that  we  must  understand  the  relations 
of  reason  and  intellect.  Let  us  say,  then,  that  the 
reason  is  to  the  intellect  exactly  what  the  telescope 
is  to  the  eye.  This  established,  we  can  formulate 
the  following  definition  as  well  founded. 

The  intellect  is  the  spiritual  eye  whose  mysterious 
telescope  reason  forms,  or:  reason  is  a  necessary 
appendage  of  mental  optics,^  or  again :  reason  is  the 
glass  used  by  the  eye  of  a  defective  intellect. 

But  this  is  not  all.  St.  Thomas  provides  us  still 
elsewhere  with  the  means  of  making  our  analogy 
more  striking.  He  says,  indeed :  reason  is  given  us 
to  make  clear  that  which  is  not  evident.  Is  not 
this,  as  it  were,  the  seal  of  truth  applied  to  our 
demonstration?  Thus  the  eye  uses  the  telescope 
absolutely  as  the  intellect  employs  the  reason,  to 
make  clear  that  which  is  not  evident. 

Of  course  it  is  plain  that  if  the  sight  and  the 
intellect  answered  perfectly  to  their  object,  they 
could  do  without  this  adjunct  which  betrays  their 
imperfection.  The  intellect  would  thenceforth  have 
no  more  need  of  reason  than  the  eye  of  glasses. 

This  explains  the  fact,  so  important  to  consider, 
that  the  clearer  the  mental  vision  is  the  less  one  rea- 
sons. The  angels  dct not  reason;  they  see  clearly 
what  is  troubled  and  confused  by  our  mind.  No 
one  reasons  in  heaven,  there  is  no  logician  there,  no 


THE  ATTRIBUTES    OF   REASON.  509 

.     Intelligence  is  immortal,  but  reason,  which 

serves  it  here  below,  will  fade  away  in  eternity  with 
the  senses  which  like  it  do  but  form  the  conditions 
of  time. 

Divine  reason  alone  will  endure  because  it  has 
nothing  accidental,  and  it  is  substantially  united  to 
the  eternal  word.  It  is  that  reason  toward  which  all 
blest  intelligences  will  finally  gravitate.  Hence,  we 
see  that  what  already  partakes  of  the  celestial  life 
repels  reasoning  as  a  cause  of  imperfection  or  infirm- 
ity. It  is  thus,  by  its  exclusion  of  reasons,  that  the 
Gospel  supremely  proves  its  celestial  origin.  It  is, 
indeed,  a  thing  well  worth  remark,  especially  worthy 
of  our  admiration,  that  there  is  not  to  be  found,  in 
the  four  Gospels,  a  single  piece  of  reasoning,  any 
more  than  there  is  an  interjection  to  be  found. 

Let  us  add  that  faith  does  not  reason :  which  does 
not  mean,  as  so  many  misbelievers  feign,  that  faith 
is-fulfilled  by  blindness  or  ignorance  of  the  objects 
of  its  veneration.  Quite  the  contrary.  Faith  dis- 
penses with  reason  because  of  the  perfection  of  its 
sight.  It  is,  finally,  because  it  is  superior  to  reason 
and  sees  things  from  a  higher  plane.  This  is  what 
so  many  short-sighted  people  cannot  see ;  and,  to 
return  to  our  analogy,  it  seems  to  them  able  to  see 
nothing  save  through  the  glasses  of  reason.  It  seems 
to  them,  I  say,  that  any  man  who  does  not  wear 
glasses  must  see  crooked.  Keep  your  glasses,  my 
good  souls !     They  suit  short  limits  of  sight.     But 


510  DELSARTE'S   OWN   WORDS. 

we,  who,  thank  God,  have  sound  sight,  are  only 
troubled  and  clouded  by  them. 

It  is  thus  that  reason,  which  is  given  us  to  make 
clear  what  is  not  evident,  frequently  obscures  even 
the  very  evidence  itself.  We  might  confirm  this 
declaration  by  a  thousand  examples.  To  cite  but 
one,  let  us  point  out  how  plainly  the  spectacle  of 
the  universe  of  thought  and  the  idea  of  a  Divine 
Creator  prove  that  no  glasses  are  required  to  con- 
template God  in  His  works.  Well !  scientists  have 
felt  obliged  to  direct  theirs  upon  these  simple 
notions,  and  have  thus,  i.  e.,  by  force  of  reasoning, 
succeeded  in  confusing  out  of  all  recognition  a 
question  sparkling  with  evidence,  so  much  so  that 
they  will  fall  into  such  a  state  of  blindness  that  they 
can  no  longer  see  in  this  world  any  trace  of  the 
Supreme  Intelligence  which  is  yet  manifested  with 
glory  in  the  least  of  His  creatures.  Consequently, 
they  will  bluntly  deny  the  existence  of  God ;  but  as 
they  still  must  needs  admit  a  creative  cause,  they 
have  to  that  end  invented  moving  atoms  and  have 
made  from  these  strange  corpuscles  something  so 
perfectly  invisible  that  they  can  spare  themselves 
the  trouble  of  providing  public  curiosity  with  a  living 
proof  of  their  theory. 

The  scientist  is  born  perverted,  as  was  said 
of  the  Frenchman  who  created  the  vaudeville ;  and 
men,  too  strong-minded  and  above  all  too  full  of 
reason  to  give  any  credence  to  the  mysteries  taught 
by  the  church,  have  displayed  a  blind  faith  in  respect 


THE  ATTRIBUTES   OF  REASON.  511 

to  moving  atoms.  They  think  thus  to  set  them- 
selves free  from  what  they  call  the  prejudices  of 
their  fathers.  They  find  no  difficulty  in  attributing 
to  invisible  corpuscles  both  the  plan  and  the  execu- 
tion of  the  beings  who  people  the  universe. 

This  is  the  fine  conception  attributed  to  what  is 
called  a  higher  reason — a  conception  before  which 
bow  legions  of  strong  minds.  To  such  a  degree  of 
degradation  can  reason  drag  man  down. 

It  js,  therefore,  dangerous  to  consult  the  reason 
in  any  case  where  evidence  is  likely  to  be  called  into 
play.  But,  before  proceeding  farther  in  the  course 
of  our  demonstrations,  a  question  presents  itself. 
It  may  be  asked  what  we  think  of  another  kind  of 
reason — pure  reason;  for  it  appears  that  in  the 
opinion  of  certain  philosophers  pure  reason  does 
exist.  I  do  not  knew  where  they  authenticated  and 
studied  this  species  of  reason.  For  myself  I  confess 
in  all  humility  that  not  only  have  I  never  seen  a  pure 
reason,  but  it  has  never  even  been  possible  for  me 
to  raise  my  mind  to  the  point  of  comprehending  the 
signification  of  pure  reason.  I  greatly  fear  that  some 
nonsense  lurks  within  the  phrase,  such  transcenden- 
tal nonsense  as  belongs  to  ideological  philosophers 
alone.  I  know  not  why,  but  these  gentlemen's  pure 
reason  always  gives  me  the  sensation  of  a  strong 
blast  of  moving  atoms.  In  fact,  it  is  not  clear ;  but 
why  require  clarity  of  philosophers  and  ideologists  ? 

But  let  us  leave  these  senseless  words  and  pursue 
the  course  of  our  demonstrations. 


512  DELSARTE'S   OWN   WORDS. 

What  we  have  said  of  reason  is  quite  sufficient  to 
prevent  its  confusion  with  the  faculty  whose  discur- 
sive form  it  is.  But  this  is  not  enough.  We  must, 
by  still  more  delicate  distinctions,  make  any  con- 
fusion between  these  two  terms  impossible. 

Reason,  although  essentially  allied  to  intelligence, 
is  not,  like  it,  primordial  in  man.  Thus  God  created 
man  intelligent,  and  consequently  susceptible  of 
reason ;  but  we  do  not  see  the  word  reason  brought 
into  play  in  Genesis,  because  it  merely  expresses  a 
derivation  from  the  mind  or  intellect.  Reason* 
therefore,  is  secondary  and  posterior  in  the  genetic 
order.  But  here  to  the  support  of  this  assertion  we 
have  a  striking  and  undeniable  proof;  namely,  that 
the  infant  is  born  intelligent  but  not  reasonable. 
Intellect  proceeds  directly  from  that  true  light  which 
shines  in  every  man  on  his  entrmice  into  the  worldy 
while  reason  is  merely  the  fruit  of  experience.  A 
proof  of  the  superiority  of  intelligence  to  reason  is 
seen  in  the  fact  that  it  partakes  of  the  immutable, 
and  is  not  like  the  latter,  liable  to  progress. 

Thus  the  child  is  seen  to  be  as  inteUigent  as  an 
adult  man  can  be.  Let  us  rather  say  that  it  is  in  the 
child  especially  that  intelligence  displays  its  brightest 
rays.  Yet  he  is  not  furnished  with  reason.  And 
why  not?  Because  he  has  no  experience.  Reason, 
therefore,  is  an  acquired  power,  whose  light  is  bor- 
rowed from  experience  or  tradition. 

Reason  is  proportional  to  the  experience  acquired. 


THE  ATTRIBUTES    OF   REASON.  5^3 

Practical  reason  or  rationality  is  the  ration  or  portion 
of  experience  allotted  to  each  person. 

Reason  is  to  the  mental  vision  exactly  what  the 
eye  is  to  optical  vision,  and  just  as  the  eye  bor- 
rows its  visual  action  from  external  light,  so  reason 
borrows  its  power  of  clear  and  correct  vision  from 
traditional  experience.     The  similarity  is  absolute. 

Suppress  light,  and  vision  ceases  to  be  possible. 
Suppress  revelation  from  intellectual  objects,  and 
reason  is  thenceforth"  blind. 

Between  reason  and  intelligence,  although  there 
be  inclusion  and  co-essentiality  in  these  terms,  there 
is  a  great  difference  in  the  mode  of  cognizance  ;  for, 
as  St.  Augustine  says,  intelligence  is  shown  by 
simple  perception,  and  reason  by  the  discursive  pro- 
cess. Thus,  while  intelligence  acts  simply,  as  in 
knowing  an  intelligible  truth  by  the  light  of  its  own 
Intuition,  reason  goes  toward  its  end  progressively, 
from  one  thing  known  to  another  not  yet  known. 

The  latter,  as  St.  Thomas  says,  implies  an  imper- 
fection. The  former,  on  the  contrary,  beseems  a 
perfect  being.  It  is,  therefore,  evident,  adds  the 
same  profound  thinker,  that  reasoning  bears  the 
same  relation  to  knowledge  that  motion  does  to 
repose,  or  as  acquisition  to  possession.  The  one  is 
of  an  imperfect  nature,  and  the  other  of  a  perfect 
nature.  Boethius  compares  the  intellect  to  eter- 
nity;  reason,  to  time. 

Yet  human  reason,  according  to  the  principle 
which  illuminates  it,  offers  three  degrees  of  elevation 


514  delsarte's  own  words. 

which  we  will  distinguish,  for  readier  comprehension, 
by  three  special  terms,  namely:  first,  tradition  or 
the  experience  of  another;  second,  personal  expe- 
rience ;   third,  the  reason  of  things. 

Trained  by  tradition,  reason  is  called  common 
sense.  Trained  by  personal  experience  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  principles,  reason  is  called  science.  Trained 
by  the  contemplation  of  principles  to  the  perfection 
of  the  intellect,  reason  is  called  wisdom. 

What  we  call  practical  reason  is  based  upon  the 
authority  of  tradition  and  the  lessons  of  other  peo- 
ple's experience  in  regard  to  the  customary  and 
moral  matters  of  life. 

Speculative  or  discursive  reason  judges  by  the 
criterion  of  its  own  experience ;  thereby  inferring 
consequences  more  or  less  in  conformity  with  tradi- 
tional teachings,  and  arriving  by  the  logical  order 
of  its  deductions  and  in  virtue  of  the  principles 
which  it  accepts  and  which  it  applies  to  its  discover- 
ies, at  what  we  call  science. 

Transcendental  reason  pursues,  in  the  effects 
which  it  examines,  the  investigation  of  their  cause, 
and  rises  thence  to  the  very  reason  of  things. 
Wherefore  it  silences  reasoning,  enters  into  a  silent 
and  persistent  course  of  observation,  consults  the 
facts,  examines,  studies  and  questions  the  principles 
whence  it  sees  them  to  be  deduced ;  and,  without 
yielding  to  the  obscurity  in  which  these  principles 
are  enveloped,  pierces  that  obscurity  by  the  pene- 
trative force  of  unremitting  attention.     Inspired  by 


THE  ATTRIBUTES    OF   REASON.  5^5 

the  standard  of  faith,  it  knows  that  the  spirit  of  God 
exists  at  the  root  of  these  mysteries.  It  cHngs 
thereto,  unites  itself  thereto  by  contemplation,  and 
finally  draws  from  this  union  its  strength,  its  light 
and  \\.^joy. 

Such  is  the  course  of  wisdom,  and  such  are  the 
inestimable  advantages  of  faith  to  reason.  It  is  in 
fact  by  faith  that  reason  is  aggrandized  and  elevated 
to  the  height  of  the  intellect  whence  it  draws  its 
certitude. 

Reason  believes  because  it  desires  to  understand, 
and  because  it  knows  that  faith  is  the  next  principle 
to  knowledge. 

Thus  the  grandeur  of  reason  is  proportioned  to 
its  humiHty;  proportioned,  I  would  say,  to  the 
efforts  which  it  multiplies  to  forget  itself  when  the 
truth  addresses  it.  But  such  is  not  the  method  of 
procedure  of  "  strong  minds."  They  have  a  horror 
of  the  mysteries  toward  which  they  are  still  urged 
by  correct  instincts.  The  fact  is,  let  us  say  it 
boldly,  they  fear  lest  they  find  God  there. 

In  these  misguided  spirits  there  is  so  much  pre- 
sumption, self-conceit,  self-love,  that  they  are,  in  the 
nullity  of  their  lofty  pride,  a  worship  unto  them- 
selves, an  idolatry  of  their  own  reason.  They 
have  deified  it, — that  poor,  frail  reason;  and  this, 
while  mutilating  it,  while  proclaiming  it  independent 
and  free  from  all  law,  from  all  principle,  from  every- 
thing definite. 

To  what  excess  of  imbecility,  then,  have  we  not 


5i6  delsarte's  own  words. 

seen  these  freethinkers  fall,  these  apostles  of  inde- 
pendent reason,  who  on  principle  boast  that  they  have 
no  faith  and  no  law  !  Thence  comes  the  scorn  which 
afflicts  these  unbelievers  for  all  who  believe  and  hope 
here  below ;  thence,  their  systematic  ignorance  of 
fundamental  questions ;  thence,  the  incurable  blind- 
ness in  which  they  bask ;  thence,  finally,  the  incon- 
sistencies and  contradictions  which  make  them  a 
spectacle  humiliating  to  the  human  mind. 

But  agnostic  man  labors  in  vain.  He  cannot 
escape  the  mysteries  which  surround  him  on  every 
hand,  like  a  gulf  in  which  reason  is  inevitably  lost 
so  soon  as  it  ceases  to  seek  the  light. 

Man  stumbles  at  every  turn  against  the  efforts  of 
a  stronger  reason  than  his  own, — the  Supreme  Reason 
before  which,  nilly  nilly,  his  must  bow  and  confess 
the  insanity  of  its  judgments. 

Logic  is  not,  to  reason,  a  sure  guide;  and  even 
where  it  feels  its  foothold  most  strong,  it  sometimes 
trips,  to  the  disgrace  of  the  good  opinion  it  had  of 
its  own  infallibility. 

Let  us  show  by  a  simple  example  to  what  rebuffs 
our  reason  is  exposed  when  counting  on  the  sup- 
port of  its  logic,  face  to  face  with  the  reason  of  facts. 

Undoubtedly  it  is  logical  and  perfectly  in  conform- 
ity with  reason,  to  sny  that  one  and  one  make  two. 
No  doubt  seems  possible  on  that  point.  Well,  this 
elementary  truth,  the  most  undeniable  in  the  eyes 
of  all  men  which  can  be  produced,  does  not,  despite 
the  assurances  which  seem  to  uphold  it.  constitute 


THE  AlTRIBirrES    OF   REASON.  517 

an  impregnable  axiom;  for  there  are  cases  when 
one  and  one  do  not  make  two !  Certainly  such  a 
proposition  seems  scarcely  reasonable,  for  its  admis- 
sion would  entail  the  reversal  of  what  are  called  the 
sound  notions  of  logic  !  But  what  will  the  logician 
say  if  I  affirm  that  in  a  certain  case,  one  and  one 
make  but  one-half?  Would  he  even  take  the 
trouble  to  refute  me?  No,  he  would  laugh  in  my 
face ;  he  would  not  listen  to  me ;  he  would  tax  me 
with  absurdity  and  insanity,  preferring  thus  to  lose 
a  chance  of  instruction  rather  than  confess  the  impo- 
tence of  his  logic. 

There  is  the  evil,  and  it  is  generally  in  this  way 
that  ignorance  is  perpetuated.  But  let  us  return  to 
the  fact  which  we  desire  to  prove,  contrary  to  logic 
and  the  pretensions  of  ordinary  reason. 

Now,  it  is  logical  and  perfectly  in  conformity  with 
reason  to  say  that  two  musical  instruments  make 
more  noise  than  one;  and  that  thus  t^vo  double 
basses,  for  example,  tuned  in  unison  and  placed  side 
by  side,  produce  one  sound  of  a  dou'ble  intensity. 
This  seems  an  elementary  matter.  It  is  as  clear,  you 
say,  as  that  one  and  one  make  two.  Well,  no,  it  is  not 
so  clear  as  you  suppose.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  a 
mistake;  for  attentive  experiment  proves  that 
the  result  is  diametrically  opposite  to  the  logical 
conclusion. 

This  is  a  fact  which  no  argument  can  destroy. 
Two  double  basses,  placed  in  the  above-named  con- 
ditions— conditions  of  vicinity  and  tonal  identity — 


5i8  delsarte's  own  words. 

far  from  adding  up  their  individual  result,  are  thus 
reduced  each  to  a  quarter  of  its  own  sonority,  which 
in  the  sum  total,  instead  of  producing  a  double  sound, 
produces  a  sound  reduced  to  half  of  that  given  indi- 
vidually by  each  instrument  taken  alone.  This  is 
how  a  power  plus  an  analogous  power  equals  together 
with  it  but  half  a  power;  and  thus  we  are  forced 
to  admit  that  one  and  one  do  not  necessarily  make 
two. 

I  have  carried  the  experiment  still  farther ;  in  the 
instrument  which  gained  me  a  first-class  medal  at 
the  exhibition  of  1854,  I  was  enabled  to  put  thirty- 
six  strings  of  the  same  piano  into  unison  at  once. 
Well !  All  these  strings,  struck  simultaneously,  did 
not  attain  to  the  intensity  of  sound  produced  by  one 
of  them  struck  singly.  All  these  sounds,  far  from 
gaining  strength  by  union,  reciprocally  neutralized 
one  another.  This  is  not  logical,  I  admit;  but  we 
must  submit  to  it. 

Lo^ic  must  be  silent  and  reason  bow  before  the 
brutal  force  of  a  fact  to  which  there  is  no  objection 
to  be  raised. 

Since  we  are  on  the  subject  of  the  phenomena 
of  sonority,  let  us  draw  another  illustration  from  it, 
quite  as  overwhelming  in  its  illogicalness  as  the 
former. 

When  two  similar  phenomena  differ  from  one 
another  on  any  side,  the  discord  brought  about  by 
this  difference  is  more  apparent  and  more  striking 
by  reason  of  the  closer  conjunction  of  these  ohenom- 


THE  ATTRIBUTES   OF  REASON.  5l9 

ena.  By  way  of  compensation  the  dissimilarity  is 
less  appreciable  in  proportion  as  these  phenomena 
are  farther  apart  from  each  other. 

This  is  rigorously  logical  and  perfectly  conform- 
able to  reason ;  yet  there  are  cases  where  we  must 
affirm  the  contrary.  Thus  the  same  sound  produced, 
I  will  suppose,  by  two  flutes  not  in  accord  with  one 
another,  forms  those  disagreeable  pulsations  in  the 
air  which  discordant  sounds  inevitably  produce. 
There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  by  gradually 
bringing  these  discordant  i-nstruments  together,  the 
falseness  of  their  relation  must  be  more  and  more 
striking,  more  and  more  intolerable.  Wrong !  For 
then,  and  above  all  if  the  mouths  of  these  instru- 
ments be  concentrically  directed,  a  mutual  translo- 
cation is  produced  between  the  two  discordant 
sounds,  which  restores  the  accuracy  of  their  agree- 
ment. Thus  the  lower  sound  is  raised,  while  the 
higher  one  is  lowered,  in  such  a  way  that  the  two 
sounds  are  mingled  on  meeting  and  form  a  perfect 
unison.  Now,  here  are  contrasts,  which,  contrary  to 
all  rational  data,  so  far  from  being  exaggerated 
by  contact,  diminish  gradually,  until  they  are  utterly 
annihilated.  Thus,  then,  given  two  instruments  of 
the  same  nature,  if  the  harmony  which  they  effect 
be  true,  they  enter  by  reason  of  their  conjunction 
into  a  negative  state  which  neutralizes  their  sonority ; 
while  the  contrary  occurs  in  the  case  of  false  unison. 
Here  the   instruments    become    identical   with   one 


520  delsarte's  own  words. 

another,   the    sonority   is   increased   and    the  tonal 
deviation  is  corrected  to  the  most  perfect  harmony. 

Obstinate  rationahsts,  what  is  your  logic  worth 
here?  Has  it  armed  you  against  the  surprises  held 
in  store  for  you  by  a  multitude  of  facts  inaccordant 
with  your  reasonings  ?  Oh,  proud  and  haughty  rea- 
son, bow  your  head  !  Confess  the  inanity  of  your 
ways.  Bow  yet,  once  again,  and  contemplate  the 
mystery  whence  luminous  instruction  shall  beam  for 
you  ! 

At  bottom  these  mysteries  may  surprise  and 
baffle  a  reason  deprived  of  principle ;  but  they  are 
never  contrary  to  it,  because  they  proceed  from 
reason  itself,  from  that  Supreme  Reason  which  cre- 
ated us  in  its  own  image ;  and,  by  that  very  fact,  is 
always  in  accord  with  individual  reason  in  so  far  as 
this  will  consent  to  sacrifice  its  own  prejudices  to  it, 
or  listen  to  its  infaUible  lessons. 

But  man's  reason  most  frequently  heeds  itself 
ilone.  Thence,  once  again,  arise  its  infirmities. 
Thus,  what  will  happen,  if,  because  the  truths 
which  I  utter  here  are  obscure  and  do  not  at  the 
first  glance  appear  to  conform  to  the  requirements 
of  logic,  you  hastily  reject  them  with  all  the  lofti- 
ness of  your  scornful  reason,  which  would  blush  to 
admit  what  it  did  not  understand !  Poor  reason ! 
which  in  and  of  itself  understands  so  little,  and 
admits  so  many  follies  as  soon  as  a  scholar  affirms 
them.  The  consequence  will  be  that  you  will  be 
strengthened  in  the  error  which  flatters  your  igno 


THE  ATTRIBUTES    OF   REASON.  521 

ranee.  Behold  that  proud  reason  which  would  never 
bend  before  a  mystery  revealea,  behold  it,  I  say, 
bowed  beneath  the  weight  of  prejudices,  which  there 
will  be  more  than  one  scholar,  more  than  one 
logician,  ready  to  endorse. 

Thus  reason  will  refuse  as  unworthy  itself,  all 
belief  in  the  actions  of  God  or  of  unseen  spirits,  the 
angels,  heaven,  but  will  not  dare  to  doubt  the  exist- 
ence of  moving  atomSy  invisible  corpuscles.  This  is 
the  mental  poverty  into  which  the  enemies  of  religious 
faith  unwittingly  fall.  They  pervert  that  instrument 
of  reason  whose  true  use  is  to  supplement  and  fortify 
imperfect  intelligence,  and  misuse  it  to  discredit  and 
overthrow  the  original  intuitions  of  intelligence. 


RANDOM  NOTES. 

Type — Man. 

Prototype — Angel. 

Archetype — God . 
It  is  within  himself  that  man  should  find  the  rea- 
son of  all  he  studies.     In  the  angels  he  should  find 
the  secret  of  his   being :   they  are   his    prototypes. 
Lastly,  it  is  in  the  Divine  archetype  that  we  are  to 

look  for  the  universal  reason. 

*  * 
♦ 

T/ie  Senses. 
Taste  and  smell  say :   It  is  Gooc/. 
Sight  and  touch  say :   It  is  Beautiful, 

Hearing  and  speech  say :   It  is  True, 

*  « 

Every  agreeable  or  disagreeable  sight  makes  the 
body  react  backward.  The  degree  of  reaction 
should  be  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  interest 
caused  by  the  sight  of.  the  object  presented  to  our 
sight. 

The  soul  is  a  triple  virtue,  which,  by  means  of  the 
powers  that  it  governs,  forms,  develops  and  modi- 
fies the  sum  total  of  the  constituent  forces  of  the 
body. 


RANDOM  NOTES.  523 

The  body  is  that  combination  of  co-penetrating 
forces  whose  inherent  powers  govern  all  acts  under 
the  triple  impulse  of  the  constituent  forces  of  the 
being. 

The  immaneiices  are  powers  which,  under  the  im- 
pulse of  the  constituent  virtues  of  the  being,  govern 
and  modify  the  co-penetrating  forces  of  the  body. 

^\vQ  powers  govern  the  forces  under  the  impulse 
of  the  virtues. 

The  virtues  are  the  impulses  under  the  sway  of 

which  the  powers  govern  and  direct  the  forces. 

*   * 
* 

Light  is  the  symbol  of  order,  of  peace,  of  virtue. 

* 
Science  and  art  form  two  means  of  assimilation : 

The  one  by  means  of  absorption,  the  other  by  means 
of  emanation.  The  one,  more  generous  than  the 
other,  gives  and  communicates ;  the  other  unceas- 
ingly receives  and  appeals.  Science  receives,  art 
gives.  By  science  man  assimilates  the  world ;  by 
art  he  assimilates  himself  to  the  world.  Assimila- 
tion is  to  science  what  incarnation  is  to  art. 

If  science  perpetuates  things  in  us,  art  perpetuates 
us  in  things  and  causes  us  to  survive  therein. 

If  by  science  man  makes  himself  preeminent  in 
subjugating  the  things  of  this  world,  by  art  he  ren- 
ders them  supernatural  by  impressing  upon  them 
the  living  characters  of  his  being  and  of  his  soul. 

Art  is  an  act  by  which  life  lives  again  in  that 
which  in  itself  has  no  life. 


524  DELSARTE'S   OWN  WORDS. 

Art  should  move  the  secret  springs  of  Hfe,  con- 
vince the  mind  and  persuade  the  heart. 

*  * 
* 

Beauty  purifies  the  sense, 
Truth  illuminates  the  mind, 

Virtue  sanctifies  the  soul. 

*  * 
* 

The  more  lofty  the  intellect,  the  more  simple  the 

speech.     (So  in  art.) 

*  * 

Accent  is  the  modulation  of  the  soul. 

*  * 
* 

The  artist  who  does  not  love,  is  by  that  fact  ren- 
dered sterile. 

* 
Art  is  a  regenerating  or  delighting  power. 

*  * 
* 

Routine  is  the  most  formidable  thing  I  know. 

*  *         9 

If  you  would  move  others,  put  your  heart  in  the 
place  of  your  larynx  ;  let  your  voice  become  a  mys- 
terious hand  to  caress  the  hearer. 

*  * 
* 

Nothing  is  more  deplorable  than  a  gesture  with- 
out a  motive. 

Perhaps  the  best  gesture  is  that  which   is  least 

apparent. 

*  * 

* 
There   is   always  voice   enough   to  an  attentive 

listener. 

* 


RANDOM  NOTES.  525 

Persuade  yourself  that  there  are  bHnd  men  and 
deaf  men  in  your  audience  whom  you  must  move, 
interest  and  persuade  !  Your  inflection  must  become 
pantomime  to  the  blind,  and  your  pantomime,  inflec- 
tion to  the  deaf. 

The  mouth  plays  a  part  in  everything  evil  which 
we  would  express,  by  a  grimace  which  consists  of 
protruding  the  lips  and  lowering  the  corners.  If  the 
grimace  translates  a  concentric  sentiment,  it  should 

be  made  by  compressing  the  lips. 

*  * 

Conscious  menace  —  that  of  a  master  to  his  sub- 
ordinate —  is  expressed  by  a  movement  of  the  head 
carried  from  above  downward. 

Impotent  menace  requires  the  head  to  be  moved 
from  below  upward. 

Any  interrogation  made  with  crossed  arms  must 
partake  of  the  character  of  a  threat. 

When  two  limbs  follow  the  same  direction,  they 
cannot  be  simultaneous  without  an  injury  to  the  law 
of  opposition.  Therefore,  direct  movements  should 
be  successive,  and  opposite  movements  should  be 
simultaneous. 

There  are  three  great  articular  centres :  the  shoul- 
der, elbow  and  wrist.  Passional  expression  passes 
from  the  shoulder,  where  it  is  in  the  emotional  state, 


526  delsarte's  own  words. 

to  the  elbow,  where  it  is  presented  in  the  afifectional 
state ;  then  to  the  wrist  and  the  thumb,  where  it  is 

presented  in  the  susceptive  and  volitional  state. 

*  * 

Three  centres  in  the  arm :  the  shoulder  for  pa- 
thetic actions;  the  elboWy  which  approaches  the 
body  by  reason  of  humility,  and  reciprocally  (that 
is,  inversely)  for  pride;  lastly,  the  hand  for  fine, 
spiritual  and  delicate  actions. 

The  initial  forms  of  movements  should  be  —  in 
virtue  of  the  zones  whence  they  proceed  —  the  only 
explicit,  and  consequently  the  only  truly  expressive 

ones. 

*  * 
* 

Bad  actors  exert  themselves  in  vain  to  be  moved 
and  to  afford  a  spectacle  to  themselves.  On  the 
other  hand,  true  artists  never  let  their  gestures 
reveal  more  than  a  tenth  part  of  the  secret  emotion 
that  they  apparently  feel  and  would  hide  from  the 
audience  to  spare  their  sensibility.  Thus  they  suc- 
ceed in  stirring  all  spectators. 

No,  art  is  not  an  imitation  of  nature :  art  is  better 
than  nature.     It  is  nature  illuminated. 

# 
There  are  two  kinds  of  loud  voices :   the  vocally 
loud,  which  is  the  vulgar  voice ;   and  the  dynamic- 
ally loud,  which  is  the   powerful  voice.     A  voice, 


RANDOM   NOTES.  52/ 

however  powerful  it  may  be,  should  be  inferior  to 
the  power  which  animates  it. 

Every  object  of  agreeable  or  disagreeable  aspect 
which  surprises  us,  makes  the  body  recoil.  The 
degree  of  reaction  should  be  proportionate  to  the 
degree  of  emotion  caused  by  the  sight  of  the  object. 

* 
Without  abnegation,  no  truth  for  the  artist.  We 
should  not  preoccupy  the  audience  with  our  own 
personality.  There  is  no  true,  simple  or  expressive 
singing  without  self-denial.  We  must  often  leave 
people  in  ignorance  of  our  own  good  qualities. 

To  use  expression  at  random  on  our  own  au- 
thority, expression  at  all  hazards^  is  absurd. 

* 
The  mouth  is  a  vital  thermometer,   the  nose  a 
moral  thermometer. 

* 
Dynamic  wealth   depends   upon  the   number  of 

articulations  brought  into  play ;  the  fewer  articula- 
tions an  actor  uses,  the  more  closely  he  approaches 
the  puppet. 

* 
A  portion  of  a  whole  cannot  be  seriously  appreci- 
ated by  any  one  ignorant  of  the  constitution  of  that 
whole. 

# 


528  delsarte's  own  words. 

An  abstract  having  been  made  of  the  modes  of 
execution  which  the  artist  should  learn  before  hand- 
ling a  subject,  two  things  are  first  of  all  requisite : 

1.  To  know  what  he  is  to  seek  in  that  subject 
itself; 

2.  To  know  how  to  find  what  he  seeks. 

Is  not  the  essential  principle  of  art  the  union  of 
truth,  beauty  and  good?  Are  its  action  and  aim 
anything  but  a  tendency  toward  the  realization  of 
these  three  terms? 

We  have  a  right  to  ask  a  work  of  art  by  what 
methods  it  claims  to  move  us,  by  which  side  of  our 
character  it  intends  to  interest  and  convince  us. 

Speech  is  external,  and  visible  thought  is  the  am 

bassadress  of  the  intellect. 

#  # 

How  should  the  invisible  be  visible  when  the 
visible  is  so  little  so  ! 

One  cannot  be  too  careful  of  his  articulation. 
The  initial  consonant  should  be  articulated  distinctly; 
the  spirit  of  the  word  is  contained  in  it. 

Two  things  to  be  observed  in  the  consonant :  its 
explosion  and  its  preparation.  The  t,  d,  p,  etc., 
keep  us  waiting ;  the  c/i,  v,  j\  prepare  themselves, 
as :   **  vvvenezy     The  vocals  ne,  me,  re  are  muffled. 


RANDOM   NOTES.  529 

Rhythm  is  that  which  asserts ;  it  is  the  form  of 
movement. 

Melody  is  that  which  distinguishes. 
Harmony  is  that  which  conjoins. 

Let  your  attitude,  gesture  and  face  foretell  what 

you  would  make  felt. 

*  # 
* 

Be  wary  of  the  tremolo  which  many  singers  mis- 
take for  vibration. 

* 
If   you   cannot  conquer    your    defect,  make  it 

beloved. 

A  movement  should  never  be  mixed  with  a  facial 
twist. 

Things  that  are  said  quietly  should  sing  them- 
selves in  the  utterance. 


PART  SIXTH, 


LECTURE    AND    LESSONS 

GIVIiN    BY 

Mme.  GERALDY  (Delsarte's  Daughter) 

IN   AMERICA.  •  - 


MME.  Marie  delsarte-Geraldy. 


LECTURB 

Delivered  by  Mme.  Gerald  y  at  the  Berkeley  Lyceum, 
New  Yorky  February  6,  i8g2. 


Ladies  : 

When  I  made  up  my  mind  to  come  to  this  coun- 
try it  was  not  with  the  object  of  exhibiting  myself , 
but  to  speak  to  you  of  my  father.  In  your  country 
my  father  is  much  talked  of.  In  my  country,  un- 
fortunately, he  is  forgotten.  My  father  did  not 
write  anything — that  is  a  terrible  thing!  He  ex- 
pected to  do  so  some  day,  but  he  always  put  it  off. 
At  last  he  decided  to  do  so  during  the  war — our 
unfortunate  war !  He  did  not  have  many  lessons 
to  give  at  that  time,  for  nobody  thought  of  taking 
any.  This  gave  him  leisure  to  write.  His  work  was 
to  have  borne  the  title,  "  My  Revelatory  Episodes." 
He  had  only  written  five  chapters  when  he  died. 
It  was  to  bring  to  you  these  five  chapters  that  I  came 
to  America.  But  as  soon  as  I  began  to  speak  of 
them  I  was  stopped.  "  Why  do  you  tell  us  this?  " 
they  said;  "  we  know  all  this  already."  I  then  dis- 
covered that  the  books  written  on  my  father  by  the 
Abbe  Delaumosne  and  by  Mme.  Angelique  Arnaud 
had  been  translated  and  published  in  this  country. 
Mme.  Arnaud's  book  is  the  better  of  the  two,  but  it 
is  not  practical — not  at  all  practical. 


534  MME.  GERALDV  IN  AMERICA. 

I  have  gathered  together  what  I  remember  in  the 
form  of  lectures,  which  I  offer  to  you.  I  have  been 
asked  for  examples ;  I  shall  give  you  examples.  I 
will  begin,  however,  by  giving  you  a  little  biograph- 
ical sketch  of  my  father,  and  by  telling  you  how  he 
happened  to  make  his  discovery.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  country  doctor,  a  man  poor  but  original.  My 
father  was  still  a  very  little  boy  when  his  father  sent 
him  and  his  younger  brother  to  Paris.  There  they 
were  apprenticed  to  a  jeweler  and  made  bands  of 
gold.  Soon  the  little  brother  died,  and  my  father 
was  the  only  one  to  follow  him  to  the  cemetery.  On 
his  way  back,  after  the  burial,  he  fell  fainting  on  the 
plain.  When  he  regained  consciousness  he  heard 
music  in  the  distance,  and,  not  knowing  whence  it 
came,  thought  it  was  the  music  of  the  angels. 
Since  then  he  dreamed  of  nothing  but  music ;  he 
wanted  to  hear  all  he  could  ;  he  longed  to  study  it. 
One  day  he  heard  two  little  urchins  singing  in  the 
street.  He  asked  them:  "  Do  you  know  music?  " 
The  urchins  replied  :  "  Yes  !  "  "  Will  you  teach  it 
to  me?  "  "  Yes,  certainly,"  and  they  sang  a  scale  for 
him.    "  Is  that  all  there  is  of  music  ?  "     "  Why,  yes.'' 

Not  long  after,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  an 
old  musician,  who  became  interested  in  him,  gave 
him  a  few  lessons,  and  entered  him  at  the  Conserva- 
toire. There  he  attended  the  elocution  classes,  and 
a  role  was  given  to  him  to  learn  in  which  he  had  to 
say;   "  How  do  you  do.  Papa  Dugrand !  "     He  had 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  535 

no  success  with  this  sentence.  Each  of  his  four 
professors  told  him  a  different  way  of  saying  it,  and 
he  wondered  :  "  How  is  this?  Are  there,  then,  no 
principles  to  go  by?"  One  day  a  cousin  of  his 
arrived  unexpectedly  from  the  country.  *'  How  do 
you  do,  my  dear  cousin  !  "  And  immediately  after 
this  warm  greeting  he  ran  away  from  his  cousin, 
crying,  excitedly,  "  I  have  it !  I  have  it !  "  and  did 
not  stop  until  he  got  to  his  room  and  in  front  of  a 
looking-glass.  What  he  had  was  the  right  attitude 
and  way  to  say,  "  How  do  you  do.  Papa  Dugrand !" 
and  this  way  was  diametrically  opposed  to  the  in- 
struction his  professors  had  given  him  on  the 
subject.  ^ 

My  father  spent  forty -five  years  in  observing. 
He  was  the  king  of  observers.  What  remains  to  us 
is  but  one-quarter  of  all  his  observations.  My 
father's  method  is  comprehensive ;  it  can  be  applied 
to  the  arts,  to  the  sciences.  His  pupils  were 
orators,  painters,  sculptors,  comedians,  lawyers, 
doctors,  society  amateurs. 

My  father  had  read  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis 
that  God  made  man  in  His  image.  God  is  Trinity. 
Trinity  is  the  criterion  of  my  father. 

Raymond  Brucker  was  an  old  friend  of  my  father's. 
'*  What  is  this  method  of  your  friend  Delsarte?  " 
was  a  question  often  put  to  .him.  "  Delsarte'h 
method,"  he  would  reply,  "  is  an  orthopedic  machine 
to  straighten  crippled  intellects." 


536  MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 

My  father  considered  man  as  the  principle  of  all 
arts.  He  used  three  terms  to  express  man :  Life, 
mind  and  soul.  He  would  compare  man  to  a 
carriage  occupied  by  a  traveler.  In  front  sits  a 
coachman,  who  drives  the  horse.  The  carriage  is 
the  body  of  man ;  the  horse  that  makes  it  move  is 
life;  the  coachman  who  drives  the  horse  is  the 
mind ;  the  occupant  of  the  carriage,  who  gives 
orders  to  the  coachman,  is  the  soul.  Man  feels, 
thinks  and  loves. 

My  father  made  use  of  three  terms  to  express 
three  states:  Concentric,  normal  and  excentric. 
These  he  would  combine  with  each  other.  I  will 
show  you,  for  example,  the  three  concentric  atti- 
tudes of  the  hand  :  The  concentro-concentric,  ex- 
pressing struggle ;  the  concentro- normal,  meaning 
power;  the  concentro-excentric,  showing  convul- 
sion. \_Illustrates.~\  In  the  same  way  we  have  the 
combinations  of  the  eyes  and  eyebrows,  and,  again, 
those  of  the  head.  The  head  is  concentro-concen- 
tric when  the  eyes  look  in  the  same  direction  as  that 
toward  which  the  head  inclines;  this  expresses 
veneration.  Notice  how  different  the  words,  "I  love 
him !  "  sound  when  said  first  with  the  head  inclined 
from  and  then  inclined  toward  the  object. 

An  interesting  series  of  movements  for  the  arms 
that  my  father  used  to  give  is  the  following :  "  It  is 
impossible  ;  "  "  It  is  not  so  ;  "  "  It  is  improbable  ;  " 
''  Maybe;  "    "  It  is  so;  "    "  It  is  evident;  "    "  There 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  537 

is  no  doubt  whatever  about  it."  \_Illustrates.']  This 
series  is  equally  applicable  to  affirmation  and  to 
negation.  For  example,  you  can  begin  by,  "  It  is 
impossible  that  it  is  not  true  !  "  and  continue  with 
that  meaning. 

I  have  been  requested  to  give  the  attitudes  of  the 
feet.  I  do  not  like  to  give  them  because  they  are 
not  feminine,  and  I  abhor  all  that  is  not  feminine. 
However,  as  I  have  been  asked  for  them,  and  as  I 
wish  to  prove  that  my  father  had  also  given  his 
attention  to  their  study,  here  they  are:  (i)  The  at- 
titude of  little  children  and  of  old  men,  expressing 
weakness;  (2)  that  of  absolute  repose;  (3)  vehe- 
mence; (4)  prostration;  (5)  transitory  attitude, 
preparatory  to  (6)  reverential  walk ;  (7)  vertigo,  in- 
toxication, which  is  an  ignoble  vertigo,  or  familiarity ; 
(8)  the  alternative  between  the  positions  of  offensive 
and  defensive;  (9)  defiance.  [^Applaiise.]  Oh!  I 
beg  of  you  !  \Deprecatingly?[  It  is  horribly  ugly  in 
me; 'but  in  a  man  it  is  all  right. 

I  shall  now  speak  of  the  interesting  role  that  the 
shoulder  plays  in  the  expression  of  emotions.  My 
father  called  the  shoulder  ''  the  thermometer  of 
passion."  Indeed,  the  shoulders  rise  with  every 
strong  emotion.  If  I  say,  "Oh  !  how  angry  I  am  !  " 
without  raising  the  shoulders,  it  sounds  if  not  false 
at  least  weak  ;  but  listen,  when  I  raise  my  shoulders  : 
"  Oh  !  how  angry  I  am  !  "  Again,  if  I  say,  "  How 
I  love  you  !  "  the  words  are  cold ;   but,  with  shoul- 


53^  MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 

ders  raised,  listen,  ''  How  I  love  you  !  "  Thus  we 
see  actors  every  day  who  portray  different  passions, 
but  whose  shoulders  remain  *'cold;"  they  do  not 
move  us. 

There  is  a  very  pretty  observation  to  make  about 
the  elbow.  My  father  called  it  the  **  thermometer 
of  pride  and  humility,"  and  used  to  call  our  atten- 
tion to  the  different  ways  the  soldiers  carry  their 
elbows.  You  know  we  have  a  great  many  soldiers 
in  France  and  we  have  a  good  chance  to  observe 
them.  A  corporal — that  is,  nothing  at  all — carries 
his  elbows  like  this  {elbows  turned  outward'].  A 
sergeant,  whose  rank  is  a  little  higher  than  that  of  a 
corporal,  carries  them  this  way  \elbows  slightly 
draw7i  in'].  By  the  time  he  becomes  lieutenant 
he  is  used  to  authority,  and  does  not  have  to  show 
it  off  so  much  {elbows  drawn  in  still  more].  As 
for  a  general,  one  whose  rank  is  the  highest  in  the 
army,  he  walks  with  his  arms  hanging  naturally  at 
his  sides. 

Now  let  me  tell  you  about  the  thumb.  My  father 
being  the  son  and  the  nephew  of  doctors,  was  in- 
terested enough  in  the  science  to  enter,  at  one  time, 
the  school  of  medicine.  Here,  while  dissecting,  he 
noticed  that  the  thumb  of  a  dead  man  falls  inward 
toward  the  palm.  This  led  him  to  study  the  atti- 
tude of  the  thumb  in  life.  He  would  pass  days  in 
the  garden  of  the  Tuileries  watching  the  nurses  and 
the  mammas  carrying  their  babes,  noting  how  their 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  539 

thumbs  spread  out  to  clasp  the  precious  burden, 
and  how  the  mothers'  hands  spread  wider  open  than 
those  of  hired  servants;  so  he  called  the  thumb 
"  the  thermometer  of  life." 

My  father  always  used  to  say  to  his  pupils :  "  Be 
warm  outwardly,  cold  inwardly."  He  wanted  them 
to  pass  suddenly  from  one  great  emotion  to  another. 
All  great  actors  do  so.  He  would  point  to  a 
portrait  of  Garrick,  representing  the  great  actor 
with  one-half  of  his  face  laughing,  the  other  half 
weeping.  He  himself,  in  his  'lessons,  after  having 
given  expression  to  some  pathetic  sentiment,  would 
become  immediately  his  own  kind  self  again.  He 
insisted  on  self-possession.  Often  when  I  was  a 
little  girl,  and  would  slip  into  the  room  during  his 
lessons,  for  I  loved  to  listen  to  them,  and  would  find 
him  portraying  some  terrible  passion,  he  would  stop 
suddenly,  seeing  the  expression  of  horror  on  my  face, 
and  would  burst  out  laughing  and  catch  me  in  his 
arms,  saying :    '*  Poor  little  one,  are  you  frightened  ?  " 

"  The  artist,"  said  my  father,  "  must  move,  interest 
and  convince."  Gesture  is  the  agent  of  the  heart. 
Gesture  must  always  precede  speech.  "  Make  me 
feel  in  advance,"  he  used  to  say ;  "  if  it  is  some- 
thing frightful,  let  me  read  it  on  your  face  before 
you  tell  me  of  it."  To  illustrate  the  practice  of 
gesture  before  speech,  I  will  now  recite  the  fable 
of  **  The  Cock,  the  Cat  and  the  Mouse."  [Here 
followed  the  recitation  of  the  fable.] 


540  MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 

My  father  once  held  his  whole  audience  under  a 
spell,  showing  them,  through  the  medium  of  a  little 
girl  of  eight,  a  hundred  different  ways  of  saying, 
"  That  dog  is  pretty."  I  will  show  you  one  or  two 
ways  If  I  really  think  the  dog  is  pretty,  I  will  say 
it  in  this  tone,  "  That  dog  is  pretty."  If  the  dog's 
coat  is  soiled,  I  will  say  in  a  different  tone,  "  That 
dog  is  pretty."  And  if  the  dog  has  rubbed  against 
my  dress,  there  will  be  a  vexed  tone,  "  That  dog  is 
pretty !  " 

My  father  used  to  divide  orators  into  **  artists  in 
words  and  artists  in  gesture."  Those  who  are  simply 
artists  in  words  are  those  who  do  not  move  you. 
Lamartine  said  of  my  father,  "  He  is  art  itself." 
Theophile  Gautier  said  of  him  that  he  *'  took  pos- 
session "  of  his  public. 

In  1848  the  National  Guard  was  appointed  to 
guard  the  public  monuments.  My  father,  who  was 
a  member  of  the  Guard,  had  his  station  near  an 
archbishopric.  A  poor  fellow  was  arrested  one  day 
who  looked  suspicious ;  he  was  searched  and  a 
chaplet  was  found  on  him.  The  cry  arose  immedi- 
ately that  he  should  be  drowned.  The  poor  man 
was  being  hustled  off  when  my  father  stopped  them, 
saying  that  he  claimed  his  part  of  the  punishment, 
and  he  drew  from  his  own  pocket  a  chaplet  and 
showed  it  to  them.  Oh  !  my  father  was  kind.  He 
was  goodness  itself.  He  was  often  asked  to  give 
lectures  at  the  court,  but  he  would  answer:    "  I  do 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  54I 

not  sell  my  talent,  I  give  it."  He  was  especially 
fond  of  his  poor  pupils,  those  who  did  not  pay 
him ;  he  would  often  invite  them  to  dine  with  him. 
And  now  let  me  show  you  a  series  of  lines  which 
my  father  called  the  inflective  medallion.  Imagine 
a  circle  \de scribing  a  circle  in  the  air  with  herhand'\. 
Within  this  circle  a  vertical  line,  a  horizontal  line, 
and  two  oblique  lines,  all  intersecting  each  other. 
At  both  ends  of  the  vertical  and  horizontal  lines  are 
small  curved  lines,  the  whole  forming  the  medallion. 
[See  page  552.]  This  medallion  contains  all  neces- 
sary gestures.     If  the  vertical  line  is  made  from  on 


high  downward 


,  it  means  affirmation ;   if  made 
A 


from  below  upward 


,  it  means  hope.     The  hori- 


zontal line  means  negation.  One  obHque  Hne  means 
simple  rejection  /  ;  the  other  /^  means  rejec- 
tion with  scorn,  as  in  a  line  from  Lafontaine's  fable, 
"  The  Lion's  Court:"  "The  monarch,  vexed,  sent 
him  to  Pluto."  The  little  curve  at  the  top  of  the 
vertical  line  ^- — ^  expresses  ease,  repose ;  it  has  the 
form  of  a  hammock.    The  opposite  curve  ^ — ^  means 

secrecy  and  mystery.  This  curve  I  means  ampli- 
tude.    The  other  one^  when  made  in  this  direction 


542  MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 

J ,  expresses  admiration  for  physical  beauty,  and 
in  the  other  direction  /  ,  admiration  for  moral 
beauty.  The  entire  circle  f  1  expresses  glorifica- 
tion. These  gestures  can  be  made  with  the  whole 
arm,  with  the  forearm  only,  or  simply  with  the 
waving  hand ;  the  degree  of  expression  varies  ac- 
cordingly. 

Lastly,  I  will  speak  about  the  law  of  opposition. 
The  arm  and  the  head  should  move  ii  inverse  direc- 
tions [illustrating]  ;  also  the  arm  and  the  hand.  The 
statue  of  the  Gladiator  is  a  beautiful  example  of  this 
law  of  opposition.  He  is  what  we  French  call  "■  well 
based ;  "  you  cannot  overthrow  him.  In  contrast  to 
him,  my  father  used  to  cite  Punchinello,  the  chil- 
dren's toy,  an  object  of  ridicule.  Punchinello,  when 
the  string  is  pulled,  raises  his  right  arm  and  his 
right  leg  at  the  same  time. 

Notice  the  different  ways  in  which  people  scold. 
The  schoolmaster  moves  his  head  from  above  down- 
ward ;  the  boy  threatens  back,  tossing  his  head  up- 
ward. 

And  now,  ladies,  I  hope  that  what  I  have  said 
will  move  you  to  take  a  deeper  interest  in  my  father's 
work,  and  enable  you  to  understand  his  methods 
better  than  heretofore.  I  shall  then  feel,  when  I  re- 
turn to  my  country,  that  I  have  not  crossed  th^ 
Adantig  in  vain, 


THE    COURSE    OF    LESSONS    GIVEN    IN 
AMERICA  BY  Mme.  GERALDY. 

Mme.  Geraldy  prefaced  her  course  of  lessons  with 
the  following  remarks : 

God  is  Trinity.  Man,  created  in  the  image  of 
God,  bears  the  seal  of  the  Trinity.  In  these  lessons 
we  shall  analyze  our  whole  person.  We  shall  dwell 
upon  three  terms :  Concentric,  normal,  excentric. 
We  find  them  everywhere. 

I,  excentric;    2,  concentric ;   3,  normal. 
I  3  2 


2         2 
c.         c. 

3         3 
n.        n. 

I        I 

ex.      ex. 

We  will  begin  with  the  eye — it  is  the  most  diffi- 
cult. 


544  MML.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 

LESSON  I. 

The  Eye  and  the  Eyebrow. 

C  Concentric Closed. 

The  Eye.  <  Normal Open,  without  expression. 

C  Excentric Wide  open. 

C  Concentric Lowered. 

The  Eyebrow.  <  Normal Without  expression. 

C  Excentric Raised. 

Combinations  of  the  Eye  and  Eyebrow. 

EYE.  EYEBROW.  EXPRESSION. 

Concentric Concentric Intenseness  of  thought. 

Concentric Normal Heaviness,  or  somnolency. 

Concentric Excentric Disdain. 

Normal Concentric Moroseness. 

Normal Normal Without  expression. 

Normal Excentric  Indifference. 

Excentric Concentric Firmness. 

Excentric Normal Stupor. 

Excentric   Excentric Astonishment. 

The  expressions  of  stupor  and  of  astonishment 
are  greatly  increased  when  preceded  by  a  quivering 
of  the  eyeHd  (bhnking).  This  should  be  very  rapid 
and  very  energetic.  Delsarte  always  insisted  on  this 
blinking. 

Anxiety  calls  for  a  double  movement  of  the  eye- 
brows :   First,  contract  them ;    secondly,  raise  them. 

Vitality  is  expressed  by  raising  the  outer  part  of 
the  eyebrows.  This  accomplishment  is  very  rare ; 
but,  then,  it  is  not  necessary. 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  545 

Contraction  of  the  lower  eyelid  expresses  sensi- 
tiveness. 

LESSON  II. 

The  Head. 

C  Concentric Bent  forward. 

The  Head.  <  Normal Upright. 

C  Excentric Bent  backward. 

Combinations  of  Head-Movements. 

Concentro-concentric Bent  forward  and  inclined  to  one  side 

(toward  the  person) :  Veneration. 

Concentro-normal Bent  forward :  Examination. 

Concentro-excentric Bent  forward  and  inclined  to  the  other 

side  (from  the  person) :  Suspicion. 

Normo-concentric Inclined  toward  the  person:  Tenderness. 

Normo-normal Upright:  Without  expression. 

Normo-excentric Inclined  from  the  person :  Sensuality, 

Excentro-concentric Bent  backward  and  inclined  to  one  side 

(toward  the  person)  :  Abandon. 

Excentro-normal Bent  backward,  straight:  Exaltation,  ve- 
hemence. 

Excentro-excentric Bent  backward  and  inclined  to  the  other 

side  (from  the  person) :  Pride. 

It  is  the  position  of  the  eye  that  determines  the 
expression  of  the  head,  for  it  is  the  direction  of  the 
eye  that  tells  us  on  which  side  the  object  of  venera- 
tion, suspicion,  etc.,  is  supposed  to  be.  The  shoul- 
ders should  be  observed  here.  They  are  the 
thermometer  of  passion ;  the  stronger  the  emotion, 
the  higher  they  should  be  raised. 


546  MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 


LESSON  III. 

The  Hand. 

C  Concentric Closed. 

The  Hand.  <  Normal Open. 

C  Excentric Wide  open. 


Combinations  of  Hand-Movements. 

Concentro-concentric Fist  closed  tight,  thumb  pressing  against 

the  knuckles :   Struggle. 

Concentro-normal Hand  closed,  thumb  resting  lightly  against 

the  side  of  the  index  finger :  Power, 
authority. 

Concentro-excentric Hand  open,  fingers  contracted :  Convul- 
sion. 

Normo-concentric Limp,    fingers    turned    slightly   inward: 

Prostration. 

^ormo-normal Limp :  Abandon. 

Normo-excentric Open,  fingers  straight :  Expansion. 

Excentro-concentric Wide   open,  fingers   stretched  apart  and 

contracted :   Execration. 

Excentro-normal Fingers  stretched  apart  and  straight:  Ex- 
altation. 

Excentro-excentric Fingers  stretched  wide  apart  and  back- 
ward:  Exasperation, 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 


547 


LESSON  IV. 

The  Arms. 

Let  the  arms  swing  backward  from  their  natural 
position,  with  the  palm  of  the  hands  turned  toward 
the  front;   head  raised.     Say:   "  It  is  impossible  !  " 

There  is  no  doubt  whatever  about  it. 


SHOULDER. 


ELBOW. 


Arms  at  the  side  in  their  natural  position,  palms 
toward  the  front ;  head  straight.    Say :  **It  is  not  so." 


548 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 


Arms  slightly  forward ;  head  very  slightly  bent. 

Say :   "  It  is  improbable." 

Forearms  slightly  raised.     Say :   "  Maybe." 
Forearms  still  higher.     Say:   **  It  is  probable." 
Forearms  at  right  angles  with  upper  arms,  palms 

always  upward  ;    head  bent.     Say  :    "  It  is  so." 
Forearms  higher.     Say:    "It  is  certain." 
Forearms  still  higher  (upper  arms  follow)  ;   head 

bent  forward.     Say :    "  It  is  evident !  " 

Forearms   still  higher    (by  this  time  the   upper 

arms  are  horizontal)  ;   head  bent  way  forward.    Say: 

"  There  is  no  doubt  whatever  !  " 


SHOULDER. 


There  is  no  doubt  whatever  about  it. 


As  will  be  noticed,  the  head  moves  in  the  oppo- 
site direction  from  the  arms.  The  face  must  express 
"what  the  words  say.  The  movements  of  the  arms 
alone,  without  the  expression  of  the  face,  do  not 
mean  anything. 


MME.  GERALD Y  IN  AMERICA.  549 

LESSON  V. 

Inflections  of  the   Hand. — Combinations  of  the 
Arm  and  Hand. 

1.  Acceptance.     Put  the    arm    out   naturally,  palm 

upward. 

2.  Caress.    Raise  the  shoulder ;   bend  the  head,  keep 

the  elbow  close  to  the  side ;  raise  the  hand  as 
high  as  the  face  and,  with  palm  outward,  bring 
it  slowly  down  again  as  if  stroking  an  object, 
at  the  same  time  raising  the  head. 

3.  Negation.     Draw  a  horizontal  line  in  the  air,  the 

movement  finishing  in  an  outward  direction. 

4.  Self-control.     Arm    hanging    at   the    side,   hand 

in  the  concentro-normal  condition,  denoting 
authority,  power  over  one's  self. 

5.  Authority.     Extend  the  arm  and  raise  it  in  front 

a  little  higher  than  the  level  of  the  shoulder; 
then  raise  the  hand,  which  should  be  in  the 
concentro-normal  state,  from  the  wrist  and  let 
it  fall  again  with  decision. 

6.  Menace.     The  arm  is  kept  in  the  same  position, 

the  fist  clenched  (hand  concentro-concentric). 

7.  Execratiofi.     Arm  extended    from  the  previous 

position  sideward ;  hand  excentro-concentric, 
palm  toward  the  back;  head  turned  in  oppo- 
site direction. 

8.  Horror.     Arm  outstretched  in  front;    hand  ex- 

centric,  palm  outward  ;   head  thrown  back. 


550  MME.  G^RALDY  IN  AMERICA. 

9.  Desire.     Arm  in  same  position;    hand  assumes 
the  normal  condition  and  turns  its  palm  up- 
ward ;   head  still  thrown  back. 
These  movements  should  blend  one  into  the  other, 
and    should    be    executed  without  any  affectation. 
The  law  of  opposition    should  be  observed    here ; 
for  example :    In  the  ascending    movement  of  the 
arm  the  hand  falls  from  the  wrist;  when  the  arm 
descends,  the  hand  points  upward. 

LESSON  VI. 

Basic  Attitudes. 

1.  Weakness.     Feet  close  together,  weight  of  body 

on  both.  This  attitude  is  that  of  childhood 
and  old  age. 

2.  Perfect  calm  and  repose.     Rest   weight   on  one 

foot  (settling  at  the  hip),  bend  the  knee  of  the 
-      other  leg  and  advance  the  foot. 

3.  Veheme7ice.     Move  the  body  forward  so  that  the 

weight  rests  on  the  foot  that  is  in  front ;  the 
heel  of  the  foot  that  is  behind  is  thus  raised. 

4.  Prostration.    Throw  one  foot  far  behind  the  other, 

with  the  knee  bent  and  the  weight  of  the  body 
upon  it.  This  attitude,  when  properly  taken, 
leads  to  the  kneeling  position. 

5.  Transitive  position.     In    walking,  stop    midway 

between  two  steps  and  you  have  the  5th  atti- 
tude or  transitive  position.     It  is  the  one  that 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  5  5  I 

leads  to  all  kinds  of  walks,  and  especially  to 
the  reverential  or  oblique  walk. 

6.  Reverential  walk.     Let  the  foot  which  is  behind 

take  a  step  forward  in  this  manner:  With  the 
toe  describe  on  the  ground  a  semi-circle  that 
bends  inward  toward  you  ;  this  will  cause  the 
heel  to  pass  over  the  instep  of  the  other  foot. 
The  other  foot  now  takes  a  straight  step  for- 
ward, and  you  pause  in  a  respectful  attitude 
before  the  personage  of  importance  whom  you 
wish  to  salute.  Several  steps  may  be  taken 
in  succession  before  the  final  pause.  The 
ceremonious  step  is  always  taken  with  the  foot 
you  begin  with  (the  one  toward  the  person 
you  salute)  ;  the  other  foot  always  takes  natu- 
ral steps.  This  walk  is  only  meant  for  men, 
and  only  on  grand  occasions. 

7.  Intoxication,  vertigo.     The  feet  are    planted    on 

the  ground  and  apart.  This  attitude  expresses 
familiarity. 

8.  The   alternative.      One   foot   in  a  straight   line 

behind  the  other,  the  weight  of  the  body  on 
both.    This  attitude  is  offensive  and  defensive. 

9.  Defiance.     The  weight  of  the  body  on  the  foot 
•     that  is  behind,  the  other  foot  diagonally  for- 
ward ;   head  thrown  back- 

Delsarte  never  ciassed  the  basic  attitudes  under 
the  ^eads  of  concentric,  normal  or  excentric,  any 
Aiore  than  he  so  classed  gestures.  He  simply  gave 
them  in  the  above  sequence. 


55 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 

LESSON  VII. 
The  Medallion  of  Inflection. 

''The  Key  to  all  Gestures:' 


Affirmation. 
^     ^  Negation. 

Hope. 
j^     Rejection  of  things  that  harm  us.       ^ 

Rejection  of  things  that  we  despise. 

Ease,  comfort  (resembles  a  hammock). 


1 


MME.  GERALD Y  IN  AMERICA. 
^ — V  Silence,  secrecy. 
(    J    Plenitude,  amplitude. 

\  (     Delicacy,  grace. 
y    Physical  beauty. 

Beauty  of  intellect. 


553 


I 


You  may  believe 
that  no  lord 

had  as  much 

glory  or  happiness." 


mme.  geraldy's  lessons  on 
lafontaine's  fables. 


THE   WOLF   AND    THE    LAMB. 

.  Might  makes  right;  we  shall  prove  this  pres- 
ently. 

A  Lamb  was  quenching  his  thirst  in  a  stream  of 
pure  water.  A  Wolf,  in  quest  of  adventures,  hap- 
pened by,  drawn  to  the  spot  by  hunger. 

*'  What  makes  thee  so  bold  as  to  pollute  the  water 
I  drink?"  said  he,  angrily.  *' Thy  impudence  de- 
serves to  be  punished." 

*'  Sire,"  answered  the  Lamb,  "  soften  your  wrath, 
and  consider  that  I  am  drinking  the  water  more  than 
twenty  feet  below  your  Majesty,  and  can,  therefore, 
in  no  way  pollute  your  Majesty's  drink." 

"  You  do  pollute  it !  "  repHed  the  savage  animal, 
"  and  I  know  that  last  year  you  slandered  me." 

"  How  could  I  when  I  was  not  born?  "  replied  the 
Lamb.      "  I  am  still  a  suckling  babe." 

"  If  it  was  not  you,  then  it  was  your  bro|her." 

"  I  have  none." 

"  Then  it  was  some  member  of  your  family,  for 
you  do  not  spare  me — you,  your  shepherds  and 
your  dogs.  I  have  been  told  so.  I  must  revenge 
myself" 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  555 

Thereupon  the  Wolf  carried  him  into  the  depths 
of  the  forest,  and  ate  him  without  further  trial. 

Lesson  Given  by  Mme.  Geraldy. 

In  the  narrative  portions  of  a  recitation,  the  eyes 
of  the  speaker  should  meet  the  eyes  of  the  audience. 
In  this  way  he  fixes  their  attention  and  engages 
their  sympathy. 

Looking  straight  at  the  audience :  **  Might  makes 
right  [deplore  the  fact].  We  shall  prove  this 
presently.  A  Lamb  [by  tone  of  voice  and  gesture 
show  what  a  weak,  gentle  creature  a  lamb  is]  was 
quenching  his  thirst  in  a  stream  of  pure  water.  A 
Wolf  [a  strong,  cruel  animal],  in  quest  of  adven- 
tures, happened  by,  drawn  to  the  spot  by  hunger." 
[Fold  the  arms ;  gesture  should  always  precede 
speech.]  "  'What  makes  thee  so  bold  as  to  pollute 
the  water  I  drink  ? '  said  he,  angrily.  *  Thy  impudence 
deserves  to  be  punished.* 

"'Sire,'  answered  the  Lamb  [humbly],  'soften 
your  wrath  and — [conjunctions  should  almost  al- 
ways be  followed  by  a  pause]  consider  that  I  am 
drinking  the  water  more  than  twenty  feet  ["Mark 
me  !  "]  fbelow  your  Majesty,  and  can,  therefore,  in 
no  way  pollute  your  Majesty's  drink.* 

"  *  You  do  pollute  it ! '  replied  the  savage  animal, 
'  and  —  I  know  that,  last  year,  you  slandered  me.' 
[With  this  line  Delsarte  always  gave  a  progressive 
gesture,  which  can  best  be  described   in   this  way: 


556 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 


Give   the    gesture  of  affirmation 


[  see   Lesson 


VII.],  stopping  twice   in  the  downward  movement, 
on  the  words  that  and  yeavy  thus : 

I 

know 
t    that 


last 
year 


you 
slandered  me.] 

"*  How  could  I  when  I  was  not  born?'  replied 
the  Lamb  [gentle  voice].  *I  am  still  a  suckling 
babe.' 

"  '  If  it  was  not  you,  then  it  was  your  brother ' 
[gruff  voice]. 

"  '  I  have  none.' 

"  '  Then  it  was  some  member  of  your  family,  for 
—  you  do  not  spare  me,  you,  your  shepherds  and 
your  dogs.  [There  is  no  pause  after  the  conjunction 
and  here,  as  it  simply  joins  together  words  in  a 
list.]  I  have  been  told  so  [impatiently ;  the  wolf  is 
tired  of  parleying  so  long].     I  must  revenge  myself 

" '  Thereupon  [lower  the  voice  to  fix  the  atten- 
tion] the  Wolf  carried  him  into  the  depths  of  the 
forest  and  —  ate  him  [deplore  the  fact]  without 
further  trial'  "  [voice  low]. 


MME.  GERALD Y  IN  AMERICA.  557 

THE  CAT,  THE  WEASEL  AND  THE  LITTLE 
RABBIT. 

The  palace  of  a  young  Rabbit  was  taken  posses- 
sion of,  one  fine  morning,  by  Dame  Weasel ;  she  is 
a  sly  one.  The  master  being  absent,  it  was  an  easy 
thing  for  her  to  do.  She  carried  her  belongings 
there  one  day  when  he  had  gone  to  do  homage  to 
Aurora,  amid  the  thyme  and  the  dew.  After  having 
nibbled,  and  trotted,  and  made  all  his  rounds.  Bunny 
Rabbit  returned  to  his  subterranean  dwelling.  Mrs. 
Weasel  was  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"  Hospitable  gods !  what  do  I  see !  "  exclaimed 
the  animal,  who  had  been  shut  out  from  his  ances- 
tors' home.  "  Hello  there,  Madam  Weasel,  come 
out  without  delay,  or  I  shall  notify  all  the  rats  in 
the  country." 

The  lady  with  the  pointed  nose  replied  that  land 
belonged  to  the  first  occupant ;  that  a  lodging  which 
he  himself  could  enter  only  on  his  stomach  was  a 
fine  subject  for  war.  "  And  even  if  it  were  a  king- 
dom, I  should  like  to  know  why,"  said  she,  "  it 
should  belong  forever  to  John,  son  or  nephew  of 
Peter  or  William,  more  than  to  Paul,  more  than  to 
me?  " 

Bunny  Rabbit  alleged  the  rights  of  use  and  cus- 
tom. *'  It  is  these  laws,"  said  he,  "  that  have  made 
me  lord  and  master  of  this  dwelling;  passing  from 
father  to  son,  it  was  transmitted  from  Peter  to  Simon 


558  MME.  GERALD Y  IN  AMERICA. 

and  then  to  me,  John.  Is  the  right  of  the  first  oc- 
cupant a  wiser  law?" 

**  Oh !  well,  instead  of  disputing  any  more,"  said 
she,  "  let  us  have  the  matter  settled  by  Raminagrobis 
Grippeminaud." 

The  latter  was  a  cat  who  lived  as  a  devout  her- 
mit ;  a  cat  whose  ways  and  words  were  smooth ;  a 
pious  cat,  warmly  clothed  and  fat  and  comfortable ; 
an  umpire,  expert  in  all  cases.  Bunny  Rabbit 
accepted  him  as  judge,  and  they  both  went  before 
his  furred  Majesty. 

Said  Grippeminaud  to  them :  "  Come  nearer,  my 
children,  come  nearer;  I  am  deaf;  it  is  the  result 
of  old  age." 

They  both  drew  nearer,  suspecting  nothing.  As 
soon  as  he  saw  the  contestants  within  reach,  Grip- 
peminaud, the  sly  fellow,  throwing  out  his  paws  on 
both  sides  at  once,  caused  the  two  suitors  to  be  of 
one  mind  by  eating  them  both  up. 

Lesson  Given  by  Mme.  Geraldy. 

[Begin  slowly,  making  frequent  pauses]  "The 
palace — of  a  young  Rabbit  [a  nice  little  animal] 
" — was  taken  possession  of,  one  fine  morning,  by 
Dame  Weasel  [a  personage  with  nose  and  manners 
sharp]  ;  she  is  a  sly  one.  The  master  being  absent, 
it  was  an  easy  thing  for  her  to  do.  She  carried  her 
belongings  there  [without  asking  by  your  leave!] 
one  day  when  he  had  gone  to  do  homage  to  Aurora, 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  *      559 

amid  the  thyme  and  the  dew.  [  I  do  not  know  if  you 
see  the  poetry  here,  but  we  French  people  consider 
this  last  line  one  of  the  loveliest  bits  of  Lafontaine.] 
After  having  nibbled,  and  trotted,  and  made  all  his 
rounds.  Bunny  Rabbit  returned  to  his  subterranean 
dwelling.  Mrs.  Weasel  was  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow. [Start  back  in  surprise,  raise  the  arms  and 
shoulders  high,  eyes  wide  open  with  astonishment, 
excentro-excentric  ;   see  Lesson  I.] 

**  *  Hospitable  gods  !  what  do  I  see  ! '  exclaimed 
the  animal  who  had  been  shut  out  from  his  ances- 
tors' home.  *  Hello  there.  Madam  Weasel  [with 
one  arm  raised,  beckon  to  her  to  come  down],  come 
out  without  delay,  or  —  I  shall  notify  all  the  rats  in 
the  country.'  " 

**  The  lady  with  the  pointed  nose  replied  that  land 
belonged  to  the  first  occupant;  that  a  lodging 
which  he  himself  could  enter  only  [scornfully ;  eyes 
concentro-excentric,  see  Lesson  L]  on  his  stomach 
was  a  fine  subject  for  war  !  '  And  even  if  it  were  a 
kingdom  [the  weasel  talks  very  fast] ,  I  should  like 
to  know  why,'  said  she,  *  it  should  belong  forever  to 
John,  son  or  nephew  of  Peter  or  William  [talk  very 
fast,  with  a  great  many  gesticulations],  more  than 
to  Paul,  more  than  to  me  ? ' 

"  Bunny  Rabbit  alleged  the  rights  of  use  and 
custom.  *  It  is  these  laws,'  said  he  [the  rabbit  talks 
slowly] ,  *  that  have  made  me  lord  and  master  of  this 
dwelling ;  passing  from  father  to  son  [count  on  your 


560      '  MME.  GERALD Y  IN  AMERICA. 

fingers],  it  was  transmitted  from  Peter  to  Simon, 
and  then  —  to  me,  John,  Is  the  right  of  the  first 
occupant  a  wiser  law?  '  " 

'*  *  Oh  !  well !  instead  of  disputing  any  more,' 
said  she  [it  is  the  weasel  who  disputes ;  she  talks 
in  a  high  key  and  very  fast]  *  let  us  have  the  matter 
settled  by  Raminagrobis  Grippeminaud.'  " 

The  latter  was  a  cat  who  lived  as  a  devout  her- 
mit ;  a  cat  whose  ways  and  words  were  smooth ;  a 
pious  cat  [assert  the  fact] ,  warmly  clothed  and  fat 
and  comfortable  [said  with  the  gesture  expressive 


of  plenitude  made  with  both  arms 


v^^= 


see  Lesson  VII.]  ;  an  umpire,  expert  in  all  cases. 
Bunny  Rabbit  accepted  him  as  judge,  and  —  they 
both  went  before  his  furred  Majesty. 

**  Said  Grippeminaud  [the  concentric  state;  take 
the  attitude  of  one  who  is  wrapped  up  in  himself, 
head  bent,  shoulders  warped,  hands  holding  each 
other ;  hardly  unclasp  to  make  the  sign  of  beckon- 
ing] to  them :  '  Come  nearer,  my  children,  come 
nearer;  [point  to  the  ears]  I  am  deaf;  it  is  the 
result  of  old  age.' 

**  They  both  drew  nearer,  suspecting  nothing. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  the  contestants  within  reach, 
[prepare  the  claws]  Grippeminaud,  the  sly  fellow 
[act  the  following]  throwing  out  his  paws  on  both 
sides  at  once,  caused  the  two  suitors  to  be  of  one 
mind  by  eating  them  both  up." 


DELSARTE'S  DAUGHTER  IN  AMERICA. 

By  Adele  M.  Woodward. 

Mme.  Geraldy  being  asked,  during  her  recent  visit 
to  this  country,  what  she  thought  of  the  system  of 
gymnastics  called  "  Delsarte,"  said  (to  translate  lit- 
erally the  expressive  French)  :  *'  It  makes  me  jump  ! 
And  yet  you  have  my  father's  method,"  she  contin- 
ued, showing  two  of  the  principal  works  on  the  sub- 
ject published  in  this  country.*  "All  that  is  cor- 
rect (pointing  to  some  of  the  charts)  ;  what  more 
do  you  want?  '' 

The  trouble  lies  here :  Americans  wanted  more. 
They  added,  they  devised,  they  evolved  from  the 
few  gestures  given  by  the  French  master  a  whole 
system  of  movements  which  they  called  by  his  name, 
and  which  has  become  very  popular  in  young  ladies' 
seminaries  and  young  ladies'  clubs.  The  name  of 
Delsarte  has  been  so  strongly  associated  with  this 
system,  that  to  most  people  the  word  '*  Delsarte " 
without  the  word  "gymnastics"  would  not  mean 
anything. 

Mme.  Geraldy  came  to  our  country  to  tell  us 
what  the  name  of  Delsarte  means.  Delsarte  never 
taught  gymnastics.  His  whole  life  was  devoted  to 
the  study  of  the  laws  that  govern  expression.  His 
pupils  were  men  of  all  professions,  ministerial  and 

*  "  Delsarte  System  of  Oratory  "  and  "  Delsarte  System  of  Expression.  " 


562  MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA. 

legal  orators,  actors,  singers,  etc.  "  The  first  half 
of  his  lesson,"  said  she,  **  was  always  devoted  to 
theory,  the  second  to  practice." 

Mme.  Geraldy  is  a  tall,  dark-haired,  middle-aged 
woman,  with  an  interesting  face  and  a  charming 
French  manner.  She  wears  mourning  for  her 
mother,  who  died  in  1891. 

**  My  mother,"  she  said,  "  was  a  remarkable 
woman ;  she  ought  to  be  as  well  known  as  my  father 
is.  I  would  rather  my  father  were  not  known  at 
all,"  she  continued,  "  than  to  be  known  as  he  is  in 
your  country,  that  is,  as  a  professor  of  gymnastics." 

She  said  she  had  heard  of  the  American  "  Del- 
sarte  gymnastics  "  while  in  Paris  (Americans  passing 
through  the  city  had  often  come  to  her  and  asked 
questions),  but  she  had  no  idea,  until  she  came  here, 
that  they  were  pushed  so  far.  She  was  quite 
amused  at  having  dumb-bells  given  her  at  one  of 
her  lectures  in  a  town  in  Pennsylvania.  "  In  a  gym- 
nasium, as  usual,"  she  said,  smiling.  Anybody  who 
had  ever  been  through  the  Delsarte  gymnastics  and 
afterward  followed  the  course  of  lessons  that  Mme. 
Geraldy  gave  to  a  class  while  in  New  York,  would 
have  been  struck  by  the  beauty  and  simplicity  of 
her  father's  method,  and  her  clear  and  direct  expo- 
sition of  it.  Here  was  no  affectation.  **  I  abhor 
all  that  is  affected,"  she  said.  There  were  no  intri- 
cate convolutions,  no  flourishes,  and,  above  all,  np 
"  decomposing  exercises," 


MME.  GERALDY  IN  AMERICA.  563 

An  interesting  fact  to  note  is  that  Mme.  Geraldy 
began  by  teaching  her  pupils  the  expressions  of  the 
eyes,  and  when  she  gave  them  attitudes  or  gestures, 
she  always  called  for  the  facial  expression  to  accom- 
pany them.  A  woman,  well-known  in  her  profes- 
sion throughout  the  country,  is  said  to  have  made 
the  remark  that  Mme.  Geraldy  was  wrong  in  begin- 
ning with  the  eyes ;  she  should  begin  with  the  feet. 
Only  after  showing  the  possibilities  of  expression 
by  face,  head,  hands,  arms  and  shoulders,  did  Mme. 
Geraldy  give  the  basic  attitudes.  She  was  very 
patient  and  painstaking  with  her  pupils,  and  showed 
herself  interested  in  every  one.  She  would  often 
pause,  while  showing  some  expressive  gestures,  and 
say,  smiling:  "  But  you  Americans  do  not  express 
yourselves  in  gestures.  You  do  not  *  move'  as  much 
as  we  do."  And  again,  when  insisting  on  the  ex- 
pressiveness of  the  shoulders  when  raised  {"  the 
shoulders  are  the  thermometer  of  passion,"  said 
Delsarte)  she  would  conclude :  "  But  all  this  is 
not  American;  you  Americans  do  not  shrug  your 
shoulders." 

In  giving  the  gesture  of  caress,  she  quoted  her 
father  as  saying  that  the  attitude  of  the  hands  in 
prayer  is  a  certain  form  of  caress.  In  our  desire  to 
have  the  thing  we  pray  for,  we  clasp  our  hands 
together  and  press  them  to  our  bosom  as  if  we 
already  held  it* 

*  See  page  549  for  complete  lesson. 


564  MME.  GERALD Y  IN  AMERICA. 

She  was  sometimes  amused  at  the  numerous 
questions  that  were  asked  her  during  the  lessons. 
"  What  searching  minds  you  Americans  have  !  "  she 
would  remark,  admiringly.  "You  must  know  the 
why  and  the  wherefore  of  everything.  We  French 
people  are  of  much  lighter  mind  and  take  things 
more  for  granted." 

During  the  lesson  on  basic  attitudes,  the  follow- 
ing question  was  put:  ''  In  the  attitude  of  repose  is 
the  mind  in  a  passive  state,  and  in  the  attitude  ex- 
pressive of  vehemence  is  the  mind  in  an  active 
state?"  The  simple  answer  was:  '' It  is  the  mind 
that  governs  the  feet  and  not  the  feet  that  govern 
the  mind." 

Mme.  Geraldy  always  insisted  on  the  law  of  op- 
position in  movements,  nature's  and  her  father's 
great  law.  She  gave,  for  example,  an  interesting 
series  of  gestures,  which  might  be  called  the  ascend- 
ing scale  from  doubt  to  conviction,  in  which  the 
head  moves  simultaneously  with  the  arms  and  in  an 
inverse  direction.  The  figure  on  page  547  repre- 
sents the  angles  made  by  the  arms  and  shoulders 
and,  at  fhe  same  time,  those  made  by  the  head  and 
shoulders  to  express  the  accompanying  ideas. 

Delsarte  used  to  say :  *'  When  I  am  speaking,  stop 
me  in  the  moment  of  my  greatest  exaltation,  and  I 
defy  you  to  find  me,  from  my  head  to  my  feet,  in  a 
position  contrary  to  my  method." 

"  Voice-culture  for  the  speaking-voice  is  not  an 


MME.  GERALD Y  IN  AMERICA.  565 

art  that  is  cultivated  in  France,"  Mme.  Geraldy  said, 
"What  can  you  do  to  change  your  voice?  It  was 
given  to  you  by  nature ;  you  cannot  change  your 
vocal  cords." 

Mme.  Geraldy  returned  to  France,  bearing  with 
her  the  hope  that  her  efforts  have  not  been  alto- 
gether unsuccessful  in  making  the  great  work  of  her 
father's  life  better  known  to  Americans,  better 
understood  and  appreciated  by  them. 


PART  SEVENTH. 


ADDENDA. 


TRUENESS  IN  SINGING. 

NOTES  OF  A  LECTURE  BY  DELSARTE,  TAKEN  BY  HIS 

PUPIL  A.    GIRAUDET,    OF  THE  NATIONAL 

ACADEMY   OF   MUSIC,    PARIS. 

By  a  most  reasonable  deduction  derived  from  his 
admirable  principles,  Delsarte  reckoned  three  modes 
or  degrees  of  correct  singing : 

1.  Absolute  trueness ; 

2.  Temperate  trueness ; 

3.  Passional  trueness. 

Absolute  trueness  is  that  adopted  by  theorists,  who 
divide  the  gamut  into  five  notes  and  two  semi-notes ; 
the  note  into  nine  commas,  or  shades  of  tone ;  the 
chromatic  semi-tone  into  five,  and  the  diatonic  semi- 
tone into  four. 

Thus  from  C  to  C  *  they  count  five  shades  of  tone  ; 
whereas  from  C  to  D  t'  they  count  but  four.  Like- 
wise, from  D  to  D  t^  they  count  five  shades  of  tone, 
and  from  D  to  C  *  but  four. 


^^^^^cjF^ 


The  difference  of  a  comma  between  the  D  flat  and 
the  C  sharp,  seemingly  a  very  slight  difference,  is, 


57^  LECTURE  BY  DELSARTE. 

nevertheless,  most  important  in  singing,  as  we  shall 
see  later  on.  But  performers,  to  simplify  our  musical 
system,  have  divided  this  comma  into  two,  making 
synonymous  notes  of  D  flat  and  C  sharp ;  that  is  to 
say,  notes  having  the  same  sound.  The  note  is, 
therefore,  practically  divided  into  two  semitones  of 
four  commas  and  a  half.  This  is  what  is  known  as 
moderation  or  temperate  trueness. 


^MA^EMPERATE   Yz   TONE  ^^  TEMPERATE    /a.   TONC 


-^^^ 


8 


e 


Temperate  trueness  is  defective  from  many  points 
of  view.  This  is  the  universal  opinion,  but  we  are 
forced  to  accept  this  method  by  the  absolute  im- 
possibility of  any  improvement,  especially  with  the 
key-board  instruments  now  in  vogue ;  and  it  must 
be  accepted  until  some  new  invention  shall  revolu- 
tionize the  piano  by  modulating  its  tones,  a  trans- 
formation which  would  give  that  instrument  not  only 
the  musical  design,  but  also  the  color  and  warmth 
which  it  now  lacks. 

Let  us  pass  to  passional  trueness,  leaving  science 
to  enter  the  domain  of  art.  **  Passional  trueness," 
said  Delsarte,  "  consists  in  giving  each  semitone 
three,  four,  five,  six,  or  even  seven  commas,  accord- 
ing to  its  tendency."  As  we  see,  the  precept  is 
daring,  and  an  inattentive  scholar  would  only  have 
to  forget  the  last  words  of  the  definition  to  make 


TRUENESS   IN   SINGING.  57 1 

people  say  that  the  great  master  of  lyric  art  taught 
his  pupils  to  sing  false. 

Every  rule  has  its  reason  and  its  consequences. 
St  Augustine,  who  knew  the  Beautiful,  of  which  art 
is  only  the  expression,  and  who  could  explain  it 
well,  has  given  us  a  brief  but  admirable  definition  of 
music  :  "  Music  is  a  succession  of  sounds  each  calling 
forth  the  other."  Simple  yet  profound  words  !  The 
sounds  call  each  other  forth,  desire  and  mutually 
attract  each  other,  and  in  every  age  this  attraction 
has  been  so  clearly  evident,  that  the  seventh  note  in 
the  scale,  when  it  meets  the  others  each  of  which 
has  its  particular  name  relating  to  its  particular  func- 
tion, tonic,  dominant,  etc.,  is  simply  called  the  sensi- 
tive note,  from  its  tendency  ta  pass  into  the  atonic. 

Passional  trueness  is  based  upon  this  tendency  of 
the  notes  to  pass  into  those  which  succeed  them,  and 
upon  this  reciprocal  attraction  of  sounds.  Thus, 
notes,  which  have  a  tendency  toward  the  acute  or 
shrill,  may  be  raised  two  commas  or  more  above 
temperate  trueness.  Notes  which  have  a  tendency 
toward  the  grave  may  be  lowered  in  the  same  pro- 
portion. (Example,  taken  from  "  The  Prophet,"  by 
Meyerbeer.) 


Ex.  No.  I. 


Ah  !  mon  fils 


Here,  the  B  may  be  but  two  commas  distant  from 
the  C ;  and  in  the  second  example  given,  the  A  flat 


572  LECTURE  BY   DELSARTE. 

may  also  be  but  two  commas  removed  from  the  G, 
and  this  change  far  from  producing  a  disagreeable 
effect  upon  the  ear,  will  make  a  most  striking  im- 
pression and  the  accent  will  be  far  more  dramatic 
than  before.  Try  the  reverse,  that  is,  divide  the 
interval  B  sharp — C  into  seven  commas  on  the  semi- 
tones A  flat — G ;  it  will  be  unendurable.  Whence 
we  may  deduce  the  fact  that  to  sing  false  is  to  sing 
above  or  below  a  note  in  the  inverse  direction  to  its 
attraction. 

Delsarte,  in  his  definition,  speaks  only  of  the  semi- 
tone, and  we  ourselves  give  examples  of  that  sort 
of  attraction  only ;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
other  intervals  are  not  equally  subject  to  the  same 
law.  Their  attraction  may  not  be  shown  by  the 
same  effects. 

The  master  added,  in  speaking  of  trueness  in  sing- 
ing :  "  The  triad  is  the  breathing-place  of  the  tonal- 
ity; the  notes  composing  it  should  be  absolutely 
true.  They  are  the  singer's  invariable  and  necessary 
law.  They  characterize  repose.  Their  office  is 
that  of  attraction,  and  they  can  only  be  attracted 
mutually,  with  the  exception  of  the  tonic,  which  is 
the  centre  of  attraction  not  only  for  various  notes, 
but  for  the  phrase  and  the  entire  composition." 

Delsarte  was  very  severe  in  regard  to  those  who 
sang  false ;  but  to  sing  true  was  not,  to  his  thinking, 
a  good  quality.  He  said,  on  this  point,  that  no  one 
would  compliment  an  architect  because  he  had  built  a 
house  in  accordance  with  geometrical  rules.    Whence 


TRUENESS    IN   SINGING.  573 

he  concluded  that  trueness  is  the  least  of  good  quali- 
ties, and  the  lack  of  it  the  greatest  of  vices,  and  he 
added  in  regard  to  style :  "  The  most  important 
quality  is  expression,  and  a  lack  of  expression  is  the 
least  of  vices." 

Let  us  add  that  the  application  of  passional  true- 
ness depends  upon  a  thousand  conditions  of  rhythm 
and  harmony,  to  analyze  which  would  lead  us  much 
too  far.  The  artist  must  make  use  of  it  according 
to  his  aptitudes  and  his  tendencies,  for  he  must  pre- 
serve his  individuality.  He  must  learn  by  observa- 
tion and  the  study  of  his  own  faculties  to  apply 
theoretical  rules  founded  upon  natural  laws. 

Practical  trueness,  while  it  allows  us  to  depart 
from  legitimate  trueness,  has  strong  analogies  with 
the  tempo  rubato.  The  tempo  rubato,  which  Delsarte 
employed  in  a  remarkable  and  striking  way  in 
dramatic  passages,  actually  permits  the  musician,  in 
certain  cases  and  in  the  desired  proportion,  to  change 
the  value  of  the  notes  while  respecting  the  principle 
of  time,  which  is  invariable.  But  the  application  of 
these  rules  is  subject  to  the  emotional  intensity ;  it 
is,  therefore,  impossible  to  determine  theoretically 
and  absolutely  its  various  bearings. 


DELSARTE. 

[YTOvaihe  Atlantic  Monthly  ior  May,  1871,  by  permission  of 
Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.] 

By  Francis  A.   Durivage. 

It  was  not  until  last  summer,  and  then  under 
peculiarly  impressive  circumstances,  that  I  saw,  for 
the  first  time,  a  remarkable  man  whose  name  is 
indissolubly  associated  with  French  art — Frangois 
Delsarte,  of  Paris.  My  curiosity  had  been  deeply 
excited  by  what  I  had  heard  of  him.  I  was  told 
that,  after  long  years  of  patient  toil  and  profound 
thought,  his  genius  had  discovered  and  developed  a 
scientific  basis  for  histrionic  art,  that  he  had  sub- 
stituted law  for  empiricism  in  the  domain  of  the 
most  potential  of  the  fine  arts  ;  and  when  the  names 
of  Rachel  and  Macready  were  quoted  in  his  list  of 
pupils,  I  was  eager  to  behold  the  master  and  to 
learn  something  of  the  system  which  has  yielded 
such  fruits  to  the  modern  stage. 

The  kindness  of  a  friend  procured  me  the  rare 
privilege  of  admission  to  the  last  session  of  Del- 
sarte's  course,  which  closed  in  July.  It  was  on  one 
of  thpse  weary  summer  days  when  the  hush  of  ex- 
pectation, following  the  fierce  excitement  caused  by 
the  declaration  of  war,  had  eclipsed  the  gayety  of 
Paris, 


DURIVAGE  ON  DELS  ARTE.         575 

The  notes  of  the  Marseillaise  had  ceased  to  stir 
the  blood  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  The  glare 
and  glitter  of  French  chivalry,  which  had  masked 
the  feebleness  of  the  Imperial  military  system,  had 
vanished.  The  superb  Cent  Gardes,  the  brilliant 
lancers,  the  savage  Turcos,  and  the  dashing  Spahis 
had  been  replaced  by  the  coarsely  clad  troops  of  the 
line.  It  was  **  grim-visaged  war"  and  not  its  pag- 
eantry that  we  beheld  ;  heavy  guns  rumbling  slowly 
across  the  Place  de  la  Concorde ;  dark  masses  of 
men  moving  like  shadows  on  their  funeral  march 
to  the  perilous  edge  of  battle.  It  was  a  relief  to 
exchange  these  sad  scenes  for  that  quiet  interior  of 
the  Boulevard  de  Courcelles,  where  a  little  group 
of  persons  devoted  to  aesthetic  culture  were  gathered 
around  their  teacher,  perhaps  for  the  last  time. 

The  personal  appearance  of  Delsarte  is  impres- 
sive. Years  have  not  deprived  his  massive  form  of 
its  vigor,  nor  dimmed  the  fire  of  his  eye.  His 
head  is  cast  in  a  Roman  mould;  indeed,  the  fine 
medallion  likeness  executed  by  his  daughter  might 
well  pass  for  an  antique  in  the  eyes  of  a  stranger. 
In  his  personal  bearing  there  is  nothing  of  that  self- 
assertion,  that  posing,  which  is  a  common  defect 
of  his  distinguished  countrymen. 

The  pupils  whom  I  met  were  ladies,  with  the 
single  exception  of  a  young  American,  Mr.  James 
S.  MacKaye,  to  whom,  as  his  favorite  disciple  and 
pjie  designated  to  succeed  him  in  his  profession, 


5/6  DURIVAGE   ON   DELSARTE. 

Delsartc  has  imparted  all  the  minutiae  of  his  science. 
'To  this  gentleman  was  assigned  the  honor  of  open- 
ing the  seance  by  a  brief  exposition  of  the  system, 
and  of  closing  it  by  reciting  in  French  a  brilliant 
tragic  monologue,  the  effect  of  which,  in  spite  of 
the  absence  of  appropriate  costume  and  scenic  illu- 
sion, electrified  the  audience.  In  this  scene,  **  Les 
Terreurs  de  Thoas,"  those  rapidly  changing  expres- 
sions of  the  features,  those  statuesque  attitudes 
melting  into  each  other,  which  we  all  remember  in 
Rachel,  indicated  a  common  origin.  It  needed  not 
the  added  eloquence  of  words  and  the  sombre 
music  of  the  voice  to  tell  the  tragic  story  of  the 
victim  of  the  Eumenides.  After  listening  to  the 
recitation,  I  was  not  surprised  to  learn  that  the 
young  student  was  to  appear,  under  the  auspices 
of  his  teacher,  at  the  Theatre  Fran9ais,  during 
the  approaching  winter, —  an  honor  never  before 
conceded  to  any  foreigner.  The  large  American 
colony  in  Paris  was  looking  forward  to  this  dc'biU 
with  a  natural  pride,  and  Delsarte  with  the  calm 
assurance  of  his  favorite's  triumph.  Alas !  we  all 
reckoned  without  taking  King  William,  the  Crown 
Prince,  the  Red  Prince,  von  Moltke,  and  von 
Bismarck  into  our  account.  We  never  fancied, 
on  that  bright  July  morning,  that  Krupp  of 
Essen's  cannon  and  the  needle-gun  were  soon  to 
give  laws  to  Paris.  But  inter  arma  silent  artes 
as   well    as   leges.     Nearer   and   deadlier  tragedies 


DURIVAGE   ON   DELSARTE.  577 

than  those  of  Corneille  and  Racine  were  soon  to  be 
enacted ;  and  the  poor  players  were  summoned  to 
perform  their  parts  upon  no  mimic  stage.  However, 
"what  though  the  field  be  lost?  all  is  not  lost." 
The  venue,  to  borrow  a  legal  phrase,  has  been 
changed,  but  the  cause  has  not  been  abandoned. 
Our  young  countryman  has  returned  to  his  native 
land,  bringing  with  him  the  fruits  of  his  long  stud- 
ies, to  appeal  to  an  American  audience,  and  it  is 
quite  possible  that  his  teacher  may  be  induced  to 
transfer  his  school  of  art  to  the  United  States. 

Although  at  this  seance  Delsarte  appeared  dis- 
posed to  efface  himself  in  favor  of  his  brilliant 
representative,  he  kindly  consented  to  speak  a  few 
words  (and  what  a  charming  French  lesson  was  his 
causerie!)  and  to  present  a  specimen  of  his  panto- 
mimic powers.  The  latter  exhibition  was  really 
surprising.  He  depicted  the  various  passions 
and  emotions  of  the  human  soul,  by  means  of  ex- 
pression and  gesture  only,  without  uttering  a  single 
syllable;  moving  the  spectators  to  tears,  exciting 
them  to  enthusiasm,  or  thrilling  them  with  terror  at 
his  will ;  in  a  word,  completely  magnetizing  them. 
Not  a  discord  in  his  diatonic  scale.  You  were  forced 
to  admit  that  every  gesture,  every  movement  of  a 
facial  muscle,  had  a  true  purpose,  a  raison  d'etre. 
It  was  a  triumphant  demonstration. 

The  life  of  this  great  master  and  teacher,  here- 
after to  be  known  as  the  founder  of  the  Science  of 


5/8  DURIVAGE   ON   DELSARTE. 

Dramatic  Art,  crowded  with  strange  vicissitudes 
and  romantic  episodes,  forms  a  record  full  of  in- 
terest. 

Fran9ois  Delsarte  was  born  at  Solesmes,  Depart- 
ment of  the  North,  France,  in  i8ii.  His  father 
was  a  physician,  and  his  mother  a  woman  of  rare 
abilities,  who  taught  herself  to  speak  and  write  sev- 
eral languages. 

Shortly  after  the  battle  of  Waterloo  a  detachment 
of  the  allied  troops  was  passing  through  Solesmes, 
in  the  midst  of  a  dead  and  sullen  silence,  when  the 
commandant's  quick  ear  caught  the  sound  of  a 
childish  voice  crying,  "  Vive  I'Em-pe-weur  !  Vive 
Na-po-le-on !  "  Every  one  smiled  at  the  juvenile 
speaker's  audacity,  except  the  stern  officer  whose 
name  has,  unfortunately,  escaped  the  infamous 
celebrity  it  deserved.  By  his  orders,  a  platoon  of 
soldiers  sought  out  the  child's  home  and  burned  it 
to  the  ground;  and  thus  little  Fran9ois  Delsarte 
became  the  innocent  cause  of  the  ruin  of  his 
family. 

The  atrocities  committed  during  the  White  Ter- 
ror, of  which  this  incident  is  an  example,  though 
passed  over  by  history,  are  not  forgotten  by  the 
survivors  of  that  cruel  period.  The  leaders  in  the 
second  terror  could  not  plead  the  ignorance  of 
Robespierre's  followers  in  excuse  of  their  excesses, 
for  they  were  nobles,  magistrates,  priests  ^nd,  officers 
gf  rank, 


DURIVAGE   ON   DELSARTE.  579 

Delsarte's  early  years  were  passed  in  the  midst  of 
cruel  privations  and  domestic  troubles,  for  even  love 
forsook  a  home  blighted  by  poverty.  His  father, 
naturally  proud  and  imperious,  irritated  by  strait- 
ened circumstances,  out  of  which  there  seemed  no 
issue,  crushed  by  the  weight  of  obligations  to  others, 
lost  heart  and  hope,  became  morose,  sceptical  and 
bitter,  and  treated  his  wife  and  family  with  such 
harshness  and  injustice,  that  Delsarte's  mother  wa^ 
finally  compelled  to  abandon  her  husband.  She 
fled  with  her  two  boys  to  Paris,  hoping  there  to 
make  her  talents  available.  All  her  efforts,  how- 
ever, were  fruitless,  and  she  found  herself  on  the 
verge  of  starvation. 

One  evening,  as  she  sat  with  her  two  boys  in  her 
wretched  room,  tortured  by  their  questions  after 
their  father,  she  could  not  suppress  her  tears. 
Frangois,  the  eldest,  then  nine  years  of  age,  tried 
to  console  her.  He  told  her  that  he  was  almost  a 
man,  able  to  earn  his  food  and  to  take  care  of  her 
and  his  little  brother.  She  listened  to  his  prattle 
with  a  sad  smile,  kissed  him  and  embraced  him. 

During  all  of  the  sleepless  night  which  followed, 
Franfois  was  revolving  his  hidden  projects  of  inde- 
pendence, and  at  gray  dawn,  confiding  his  purpose 
only  to  his  brother,  and  bidding  him  tell  his  mother, 
when  she  awoke,  that  he  would  soon  be  back  with 
money  to  buy  bread  for  them,  the  child  stole  forth  to 
seek  his  fortune  in  the  great  dreary  world  of  Paris. 


58o  DURIVAGE   ON   DELS  ARTE. 

He  wandered  about  all  day,  and  at  night,  hungry 
and  weary,  entered  a  jeweler's  shop  in  the  Palais 
Royal,  kept  by  an  old  woman,  to  whom  he  appealed 
for  employment — vainly  at  first.  Finally,  however, 
she  consented  to  engage  him  as  a  drudge  and  errand 
boy,  allowed  him  to  sleep  in  an  armoire  over  the 
door,  and  gave  him  four  pounds  of  bread  a  week  in 
lieu  of  wages.  Four  pounds  of  bread  a  week ! 
The  allowance  appeared  munificent,  and  he  ae^ 
cepted  the  offer  with  gratitude.  A  brief  experience 
dispelled  his  illusions.  He  was  always  weary  and 
always  hungry.  After  a  few  weeks'  trial,  he  left  his 
first  benefactress  and  secured  some  kind  of  employ- 
ment at  five  sous  a  day,  out  of  which  he  contrived 
to  save  two.  In  two  weeks  he  had  saved  nearly  a 
franc  and  a  half  for  his  dear  mother.  One  day, 
while  executing  a  commission  for  his  employer,  he 
found  his  little  brother  alone  in  the  street  crying 
bitterly. 

"  How  is  dear  mamma?  "  was  his  first  question. 

"  Dead,  and  carried  away  by  ugly  men." 

The  winter  of  182 1  was  unusually  severe  for  Paris. 
One  night  Delsarte  and  his  brother  fell  asleep  in 
each  other's  arms  in  the  wretched  loft  they  occu- 
pied ;  but  when  the  former  opened  his  eyes  to  the 
morning's  light  he  was  holding  a  corpse  to  his  heart. 
The  little  boy  had  perished  of  cold  and  starvation. 
Almost  mad  with  terror  and  grief,  the  survivor 
rushed  into  the  streets  to  summon  the  neighbors. 


DURIVAGE  ON  DELSARTE.  58 1 

The  next  day  a  little  hatless  boy,  in  rags  and 
nearly  barefooted,  followed  two  men  bearing  a  small 
pine  coffin  which  they  deposited  in  the  fosse  com- 
mime  of  Pe're  la  Chaise. 

After  seeing  the  grave  covered,  Delsarte  left  the 
cemetery  and  wandered  wearily  through  the  snow, 
now  utterly  alone  in  the  world,  across  the  plain  of 
St.  Denis.  Overcome  by  cold,  hunger,  and  grief, 
he  sank  to  the  ground,  and  then,  before  he  lost  con- 
sciousness, a  strain  of  music,  real  or  imaginary,  met 
his  ear  and  charmed  him  to  a  forgetfulness  of  misery, 
bereavement,  all  the  evils  that  environed  him.  It 
was  the  first  awakening  of  his  artist  soul,  and  to  this 
day  Delsarte  believes  that  it  was  no  earthly  music 
that  he  heard. 

Rousing  himself  from  a  sort  of  stupor  into  which 
he  had  fallen,  he  saw  a  chiffonnier  bending  over  him. 
The  man  had  for  a  moment  mistaken  the  prostrate 
form  for  a  bundle  of  rags ;  but  taking  pity  on  the 
half-frozen  lad,  he  placed  him  in  his  basket  and 
carried  him  to  his  miserable  home.  And  so  the 
future  artist  commenced  his  professional  career  as 
a  Parisian  rag-picker. 

While  wandering  about  the  great  city  in  the  in- 
terest of  his  employer,  his  only  solace  was  to  listen 
to  the  songs  of  itinerant  vocalists  and  the  occasional 
music  of  a  military  band.  Music  became  his  pas- 
sion. From  some  of  the  gamins  he  learned  the 
seven  notes  of  the  scale,  and,  to  preserve  the  melo- 


582  DURIVAGE  ON  DELSARTE. 

dies  that  delighted  him,  he  invented  a  system  of 
musical  notation.  On  a  certain  holiday,  when  he 
was  twelve  years  old,  while  listening  to  the  delight- 
ful music  in  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  the  little 
chiffonftier  busied  himself  with  drawing  figures  in 
the  dust.  An  old  man  of  eccentric  appearance, 
noticing  his  earnest  diligence,  accosted  him. 

"What  are  you  doing  there,  boy?"  he  asked. 

Terrified  at  first,  but  reassured  by  the  kind  man- 
ner of  the  stranger,  Delsarte  replied:  *' Writing 
down  the  music,  sir." 

**  Do  you  mean  to  say  those  marks  have  any  sig- 
nificance ?     That  you  can  read  them?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir." 

'''  Let  me  hear  you." 

Encouraged  by  the  interest  manifested  in  him,  the 
lad  sang  in  a  sweet  and  pure  but  sad  voice  the 
strains  just  played  by  the  military  band.  The  old 
man  was  amazed. 

"Who  taught  you  this  process?  " 

"  Nobody,  sir ;   found  it  out  myself." 

Bambini — for  it  was  the  then  distinguished,  but 
now  almost  forgotten,  professor — offered  to  take  the 
boy  home  with  him ;  and  he  who  had  entered  the 
garden  of  the  Tuileries  a  rag-picker,  left  it  a  recog- 
nized musician.  In  the  dust  of  Paris  were  first 
written  the  elements  of  a  system  destined  to  regen- 
erate art.  Bambini  taught  his  protege  all  he  knew, 
but  the  pupil  soon  surpassed  the  master  and  became 


bURIVAGE  ON  DELSARTE.  583 

his  instructor  in  turn ;  for  if  the  one  had  talent,  the 
other  possessed  genius. 

Bambini  predicted  the  future  of  Delsarte.  One 
day  when  they  were  walking  arm-in-arm  in  the 
Avenue  des  Champs-Elysees,  the  former  said  :  "  Do 
you  see  all  those  people  in  carriages,  with  their  fine 
liveries  and  magnificent  clothes?  Well,  the  day  will 
come  when  they  will  only  be  too  happy  to  listen  to 
you,  proud  of  your  presence  in  their  salons^  envying 
your  fame  as  a  great  artist." 

Bambini's  death  left  Delsarte  poor  and  friendless. 
At  fourteen,  however,  he  managed  to  get  admitted 
into  the  Conservatoire,  where,  though  he  labored 
hard,  he  met  with  harsh  treatment  and  discourage- 
ment. The  professors  disliked  him  for  his  reflective 
nature  and  persistent  questionings  which  brought  to 
light  the  superficiality  of  their  acquirements;  his 
fellow-pupils,  for  his  exclusive  devotion  to  study 
and  his  reserve,  the  result  of  diffidence  rather  than 
of  hauteur.  His  professors  were  dictators,  who, 
while  diff'ering  from  each  other  as  teachers, 
were  yet  united  in  frowning  upon  any  attempt 
on  the  part  of  their  pupil  to  emancipate  himself 
from  the  thraldom  of  conventionalism  and  rou- 
tine. Genius  was  a  heresy  for  which  they  had  no 
mercy. 

Thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  he  soon  devel- 
oped, by  careful  observation  of  nature  and  a  con- 
stant study  of  cause  and  eff'ect,  a  system  and  a  style 


584  DURIVAGE   ON   DELS  ARTE. 

radically  differing  from  those  of  the  professors  and 
their  servile  imitators. 

One  day,  after  having  sung  in  his  own  style  at  one 
of  the  public  exhibitions — applauded,  however,  only 
by  a  single  auditor, — he  was  walking  sadly  and 
slowly  in  the  court-yard  of  the  Conservatoire,  when 
a  lady  and  a  gentleman  approached  him. 

''Courage,  my  friend,"  said  the  lady.  ''Your 
singing  has  given  me  the  highest  pleasure.  You 
will  be  a  great  artist." 

So  spake  Marie  Malibran,  the  queen  of  song. 

"  My  friend,"  said  her  companion,  "  It  was  I  who 
applauded  you  just  now.  In  my  opinion,  you  are  a 
singer  hors  de  ligne.  When  my  children  are  ready 
to  learn  music,  you,  above  all  others,  shall  be  their 
professor.  " 

These  were  the  words  of  Adolphe  Nourrit.  The 
praises  of  Malibran  and  Nourrit  gave  Delsarte 
courage,  revived  his  hopes,  and  decided  him  to  fol- 
low implicitly  the  promptings  of  his  genius.  His 
extreme  poverty  compelled  him  at  last  to  apply  to 
the  Conservatoire  for  a  diploma  which  would  enable 
him  to  secure  a  situation  at  one  of  the  lyric  theatres. 
It  was  refused. 

The  autumn  of  1829  found  him  a  shabby,  almost 
ragged  applicant  for  employment  at  the  stage-door 
of  the  Opera  Comique.  Repeated  rebuffs  failed  to 
baffle  his  desperate  pertinacity. 

One  day  the  director,  hearing  of  the  annoyance 


DURIVAGE   ON   DELS  ARTE.  585 

to  which  his  subordinates  were  subjected  by  D^lsarte, 
determined  to  abate  the  nuisance  by  one  of  those 
cruel  coups-de-main  of  which  Frenchmen  are  pre- 
eminently capable.  The  next  night,  during  the 
performance,  when  Delsarte  called,  he  was,  to  his 
surprise  and  delight,  shown  into  the  great  man's 
presence. 

*'  Well,  sir,  what  do  you  want?  " 

"Pardon,  Monsieur,  I  came  to  seek  a  place  at 
your  theatre." 

"  There  is  but  one  vacant,  and  you  don't  seem 
capable  of  filling  that.     I  want  only  a  call-boy." 

"  Sir,  I  am  prepared  to  fill  the  position  of  a  pre- 
mier sujet  among  your  singers." 

''Imbecile!:' 

"•  Monsieur,  if  my  clothes  are  poor,  my  art  is 
genuine." 

"■  Well,  sir,  if  you  will  sing  for  me,  I  will  hear  you 
shortly." 

He  left  Delsarte  alone,  overjoyed  at  having  se- 
cured the  manager's  ear.  In  a  few  moments  a  surly 
fellow  told  him  he  was  wanted  below,  and  he  soon 
found  himself  with  the  manager  upon  the  stage  be- 
hind the  green  curtain. 

"  You  are  to  sing  here,"  said  the  director.  "There 
is  your  piano.  In  one  moment  the  curtain  will  be 
rung  up.  I  am  tired  of  your  importunities.  I  give 
you  one  chance  to  show  the  stuff  you're  made  of. 
If  you  discard  this  opportunity,  the  next  time  you 


586  DURlVAGE  ON  DELSARTfi. 

show  your  face  at   my  door  you   shall   be   arrested 
and  imprisoned  as  a  vagrant." 

The  indignation  excited  in  Delsarte  by  this  cruel 
trick  instantly  gave  way  before  the  reflection  that 
success  was  a  matter  of  life  and  death  with  him,  and 
that  perhaps  his  last  chance  lay  within  his  grasp. 
He  forgot  his  rags ;  every  nerve  became  iron ;  and 
when  the  curtain  was  rung  up,  a  beggar  with  the 
bearing  of  a  prince  advanced  to  the  foot-lights,  was 
received  with  derisive  laughter  by  some,  with  glances 
of  surprise  and  indignation  by  others,  and,  with  a 
sad  and  patient  smile  on  his  countenance,  gracefully 
saluted  the  brilliant  audience.  The  courtliness  of  his 
manner  disarmed  hostility ;  but  when  he  sat  down 
to  the  piano,  ran  his  fingers  over  the  keys,  and  sang 
a  few  bars,  the  exquisite  voice  found  its  way  to  every 
heart.  With  every  moment  his  voice  became  more 
powerful.  Each  gradation  of  emotion  was  rendered 
with  an  ease,  an  art,  an  expression,  that  made  every 
heartstring  vibrate.  Then  he  suddenly  stopped, 
bowed,  and  retired.  The  house  rang  with  bravos. 
The  dress-circle  forgot  its  reticence  and  joined  in 
the  tumult  of  applause.  He  was  recalled.  This 
time  he  sang  a  grand  lyric  composition  with  the  full 
volume  of  his  voice,  aided  in  effect  by  those  impe- 
rial gestures  of  which  he  had  already  discovered  the 
secret.  The  audience  were  electrified.  They  de- 
clared that  Talma  was  resuscitated.  But  when  he 
was  a  second  time   recalled,  his  tragic   mood  had 


DURIVAGE  ON  DELSARTE.  sS/ 

melted ;  there  were  "  tears  in  his  voice  "  as  well  as 
on  his  cheeks. 

After  the  fall  of  the  curtain  the  director  grasped 
his  hand,  loaded  him  with  compliments,  and  offered 
him  an  engagement  for  a  year  at  a  salary  of  ten 
thousand  francs.  He  went  home  to  occupy  his 
wretched  attic  for  the  last  time,  and  falling  on  his 
knees  poured  forth  his  soul  in  prayer. 

The  next  day  Delsarte,  neatly  dressed,  paid  a  visit 
to  the  directors  of  the  Conservatoire. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  ^you  would  not  give  me  a 
recommendation  as  a  chorister ;  th.Q  ptiblic  have  ac- 
corded me  this.'*  And  he  displayed  his  commission 
as  Comedien  du  Roi. 

Delsarte  remained  upon  the  lyric  stage  until  1834, 
when  the  failure  of  his  voice,  which  had  been  strained 
at  the  Conservatoire,  compelled  him  to  retire.  He 
continued,  however,  the  study  of  music,  and  his 
productions,  particularly  a  *'  Dies  Irae,"  placed  him  in 
the  front  rank  of  composers.  At  this  period  of  his 
life,  meditation  and  study  resulted  in  a  firm  religious 
faith,  which  never  wavered  afterward. 

He  now  applied  himself  to  the  task  of  establish- 
ing a  scientific  basis  for  lyric  and  dramatic  art,  and 
after  years  of  patient  labor  perfected  a  system  on 
which  probably  his  fame  will  ultimately  rest.  His 
cours  for  instruction  in  the  principles  of  art  was  first 
opened  in  1839.  From  the  outset  he  was  appre- 
ciated by  the  highly  cultivated  few,  nor  was  it  long 


588        DURIVAGE  ON  DELS  ARTE. 

before  the  circle  extended  and  the  new  master  won 
a  European  reputation.  Some  of  his  pupils  were 
destined  for  a  professional  career ;  but  many,  men 
and  women  of  rank  and  fortune,  sought  to  learn 
from  him  the  means  of  rendering  their  brilliant 
salons  yet  more  attractive.  Members  of  most  of  the 
reigning  families  of  Europe  were  numbered  among 
his  pupils,  and  his  apartments  in  Paris  were  filled, 
when  I  saw  them,  with  pictures,  photographs,  and 
other  souvenirs  of  esteem  and  friendship,  from  the 
highest  dignitaries  of  Europe.  When  he  consented, 
on  one  occasion,  to  appear  at  a  soiree  at  the  Tuiler- 
ies,  Louis  Philippe  received  him  at  the  foot  of  the 
grand  staircase,  as  if  he  had  been  his  peer,  and  be- 
stowed on  him  during  the  evening  the  same  atten- 
tions he  would  have  accorded  to  a  fellow-sovereign. 
The  citizen  king  recognized  the  royalty  of  art.  And 
it  may  be  noted  that  Delsarte  would  not  have  ap- 
peared on  this  occasion,  except  on  the  condition 
that  no  remuneration  should  be  offered  to  him  for 
the  exercise  of  his  talents. 

Malibran,  whose  kind  word  in  the  courtyard  of 
the  Conservatoire  had  revived  Delsarte's  fainting 
hopes,  attended  his  early  course  of  lectures.  I  have 
already  mentioned  Rachel  and  Macready  as  his 
pupils.  I  now  recall  the  names  of  Sontag,  of  the 
gifted  Madeleine  Brohan,  of  Carvalho,  Barbot,  Pasca 
(who  owed  everything  to  Delsarte),  and  Pajol.  He 
was  the  instructor  in  pulpit  oratory  of  Pere  Lacor- 


DURIVAGE  ON  DELSARTE.         589 

daire,  Pere  Hyacinthe,  and  the  present  abbe  of 
Notre  Dame. 

Notwithstanding  the  labor  exacted  by  his  great 
specialty,  he  has  done  much  good  work  in  various 
other  directions.  Among  his  mechanical  inventions 
are  a  sonotype,  a  tuning  instrument  by  means  of 
which  any  one  can  tune  a  piano  accurately,  an  im- 
proved level,  theodolite  and  sextant,  a  scale  for 
measuring  the  differences  in  the  solidity  of  fluids, 
etc. 

Of  the  conscientiousness  with  which  he  works, 
it  may  be  mentioned  that  he  devoted  five  years  to 
the  study  of  anatomy  and  physiology,  to  obtain  a 
perfect  knowledge  of  all  the  muscles,  their  uses  and 
capabilities, — a  knowledge  of  which  he  has  utilized 
with  remarkable  success. 

It  is  now  time  to  give  some  idea  of  his  system, 
which  can  be  done  most  satisfactorily,  perhaps, 
through  the  medium  of  an  article  which  appeared  in 
the  Gazette  Musicaley  from  the  authoritative  pen  of 
A.  Gueroult.  After  having  analyzed  the  maestro's 
theory  of  vocal  art,  he  says : 

"  The  study  of  gesture  and  its  agents  has  been 
subjected  by  M.  Delsarte  to  an  analysis  no  less 
profound.  Thus  he  recognizes  in  the  human  body 
three  principal  agents  of  expression,  the  head,  the 
torso  and  the  limbs,  which  perform  each  a  distinct 
part  in  the  economy  of  a  character.  Gesture,  some- 
times expressive,  sometimes  excentric,  and  some- 
times  compressive,  assumes  in   each  case   special 


590  DURIVAGE  ON  DELSARTE. 

forms,  which  have  been  classified  and  described  by 
M.  Delsarte  with  a  care  and  perspicuity  which  make 
his  labors  on  this  subject  entirely  new,  and  for  which 
I  know  no  equivalent  anywhere.  Permit  me  to  ex- 
plain more  fully  the  utility  of  this  study,  to  cite  an 
application,  for  examples  are  always  more  eloquent 
than  generalities.  In  the  play  of  the  physiognomy 
every  portion  of  the  face  performs  a  separate  part. 
Thus,  for  instance,  it  is  not  useless  to  know  what 
function  nature  has  assigned  to  the  eye,  the  nose, 
the  mouth,  in  the  expression  of  certain  emotions  of 
the  soul.  True  passion,  which  never  errs,  has  no 
need  of  recurring  to  such  studies  ;  but  they  are  indis- 
pensable to  the  feigned  passion  of  the  actor.  How 
useful  would  it  not  be  to  the  actor  who  wishes  to 
represent  madness  or  wrath,  to  know  that  the  eye 
never  expresses  the  sentiment  experienced,  but 
simply  indicates  the  object  of  this  sentiment !  Cover 
the  lower  part  of  your  face  with  your  hand,  and 
impart  to  your  look  all  the  energy  of  which  it  is 
susceptible,  still  it  will  be  impossible  for  the  most 
sagacious  observer  to  discover  whether  your  look 
expresses  anger  or  attention.  On  the  other  hand, 
uncover  the  lower  part  of  the  face,  and  if  the  nos-' 
trils  are  dilated,  if  the  contracted  lips  are  drawn  up, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  anger  is*  written  on  your 
countenance.  An  observation  which  confirms  the 
purely  indicative  part  performed  by  the  eye  is, 
that  among  raving  madmen  the  lower  part  of  the 
face  is  violently  contracted,  while  the  vague  and 
uncertain  look  shows  clearly  that  their  fury  has  no 
object.  ■  It  is  easy  to  conceive  what  a  wonderful 
interest  the  actor,  painter,  or  sculptor  must  find  in 
the  study  of  the  human  body  thus  analyzed  from 
head  tQ  foQt  in  its  innumerablQ  ways  of  expression. 


DURIVAGE   ON   DELS  ARTE.  59 1 

Hence,  the  eloquent  secrets  of  pantomime,  those 
imperceptible  movements  of  great  actors  which 
produce  such  powerful  impressions,  are  decomposed 
and  subjected  to  laws  whose  evidence  and  simplicity 
are  a  twofold  source  of  admiration. 

*'  Finally,  in  what  concerns  articulate  language 
M.  Delsarte  has  assumed  a  yet  more  novel  task. 
We  all  know  the  power  of  certain  inflections ;  we 
know  that  a  phrase  which  accented  in  a  certain  way 
is  null,  accented  in  another  way  produces  irresistible 
effects  upon  the  stage.  It  is  the  property  of  great 
artists  to  discover  this  preeminent  accentuation ;  but 
never,  to  my  knowledge,  did  anyone  think  of  refer- 
ring these  happy  inspirations  of  genius  to  positive 
laws.  Yet,  whence  comes  it  that  a  certain  inflection, 
a  certain  word  placed  in  relief,  affects  us?  How 
shall  we  explain  this  emotion,  if  not  by  a  certain 
relation  existing  between  the  laws  of  our  organiza- 
tion, the  laws  of  general  grammar,  and  those  of 
musical  inflection?  There  is  always,  in  a  phrase 
loudly  enunciated,  one  word  which  sustains  the 
passionate  accent.  But  how  shall  we  detach  and 
recognize  it  in  the  midst  of  the  phrase?  How  dis- 
tribute the  forces  of  accentuation  on  all  the  words 
of  which  it  is  composed?  How  classify  and  arrange 
them  in  relation  to  that  sympathetic  inflection, 
without  which  the  most  energetic  thought  halts  at 
our  intelligence  without  reaching  our  heart?  M. 
Delsarte  has  had  recourse  to  the  same  method  which 
guided  him  in  the  study  of  gesture.  He  did  not 
study  declamation  on  the  stage,  but  in  real  life, 
where  unpremeditated  inflections  spring  directly 
from  feeling ;  then,  fortified  by  innumerable  obser- 
vations, he  rearranged  grammar  and  rhetoric  from 
thi3  special  point  of  vi^Wi  ^P-A  h.a^  obtained  re^ylta 


592  DURIVAGE   ON   DELSARTE. 

as  simple   in   their  principles  as  they  are   fertile  in 
thpir  application. 

'*  If  I  wished  to  classify  the  nature  and  value  of 
M.  Delsarte's  labors  in  relation  to  what  has  been 
spoken  or  written  up  to  this  time  on  the  art  of  sing- 
ing or  acting,  I  should  say  that  the  numerous  pre- 
cepts which  have  been  formulated  on  dramatic  art 
have  had  hardly  any  object  other  than  the  manner 
in  which  each  character  ought  to  be  conceived. 
Ingenious  and  multiplied  observations  have  been 
employed  to  bring  forth  the  delicacies  of  the  part 
and  its  .  unperceived  features.  The  intellectual 
strength  of  the  actor  or  vocalist  has  been  directed 
to  the  author's  conception.  He  has  been  told  to  be 
pathetic  here,  menacing  there ;  here  to  assume  a 
slight  tinge  of  irony  transpiercing  apparent  polite- 
ness, or,  again,  to  make  his  gesture  a  seeming  con- 
tradiction of  his  words.  Such  an  analysis  of  the 
poet's  work  is  certainly  imperative,  but  how  far  from 
adequate  !  And  what  an  immense  distance  there  is 
from  the  intelligence  which  comprehends  to  the 
gesture  which  translates,  from  the  song  which  moves 
to  the  inflection  which  interprets !  It  is  with  the 
new  purpose  which  M.  Delsarte  has  embraced  that, 
without  neglecting  an  understanding  of  the  author, 
he  says  to  the  actor :  *  This  is  what  you  must  ex- 
press. Now,  how  will  you  do  it?  What  will  you 
do  with  your  arms,  with  your  head,  with  your  voice? 
Do  you  know  the  laws  of  your  organization?  Do 
you  know  how  to  go  to  work  to  be  pathetic,  digni- 
fied, comic,  or  familiar,  to  represent  the  clemency 
of  Augustus  or  the  drunkenness  of  a  coachman?' 
In  a  word,  he  teaches  the  vocalist  or  actor  the  laws 
of  this  language,  of  this  eloquence  which  nature 
places  in  our  eyes,  in  our  gestures,  in  the  suppressed 


DURIVAGE   ON   DELS  ARTE.  593 

or  expansive  tones  of  our  voice,  in  the  accent  of 
speech.  He  teaches  the  actor,  or,  to  speak  more 
properly,  the  man,  to  know  himself,  to  manage 
artistically  that  inimitable  instrument  whtch  is  man 
himself,  all  of  whose  parts  contribute  to  a  harmoni- 
ous unity.  Hence,  aware  of  the  gravity  of  such  an 
assertion,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  proclaim  here  that  I 
believe  M.  Delsarte's  work  will  remain  among  the 
fundamental  bases;  I  beheve  that  his  labors  are 
destined  to  give  a  solid  foundation  to  theatric  art,  to 
elevate  and  to  ennoble  it ;  I  believe  that  there  is  no 
actor,  no  singer,  however  eminent,  who  cannot  derive 
from  the  acquirements  and  luminous  studies  of  M. 
Delsarte,  positive  germs  of  development  and  prog- 
ress. I  believe  that  whoever  makes  the  external 
interpretation  of  the  sentiments  of  the  human  soul 
his  business  and  profession,  whether  painter,  sculptor, 
orator,  or  actor,  that  all  men  of  taste  who  support 
them  will  applaud  this  attempt  to  create  the  science 
of  expressive  man  ;  a  science  from  which  antiquity 
seems  to  have  lifted  the  veil,  and  what  appears  will- 
ing to  revive  in  our  days,  in  the  hands  of  a  man 
worthy  by  his  patient  and  conscientious  efforts  to 
discover  some  of  its  most  precious  secrets." 

Delsarte  has  sought  neither  fame  nor  wealth.  He 
could  easily  have  secured  both  by  remaining  on  the 
stage  as  an  actor,  after  he  had  lost  his  power  as  a 
vocaHst.  He  preferred  to  surrender  himself  in  com- 
parative retirement  to  the  study  of  science  and  art, 
and  the  instruction  of  those  who  sought  his  aid  in 
mastering  the  principles  of  the  latter.  To  the  needy 
this  instruction  was  imparted  gratuitously,  and  more 


594  DURIVAGE   ON  DELS  ARTE. 

than  one  successful  actress  has  been  raised  from 
penury  to  fortune  by  the  benevolence  of  her  teacher. 

It  would  be  easy  to  cite  many  illustrations  of 
the  goodness  and  tenderness  of  this  man.  Religious 
fervor  has  largely  influenced  his  life  and  is  the  key- 
note of  his  character ;  but  his  faith  is  not  hampered 
by  bigotry.  Like  all  minds  of  high  rank,  he  holds 
that  science  and  art  are  the  handmaids  of  religion. 

I  have  said  that  this  remarkable  man  did  not  seek 
fame ;  it  has  come  to  him  unsought.  Pages  might 
be  filled  with  voluntary  tributes  to  his  genius  from 
the  foremost  minds  of  France, — Jules  Janin,  Theo- 
phile  Gautier,  Mme.  Emile  de  Girardin.  Lamartine 
pronounced  him*' a  sublime  orator."  Fiorentino, 
the  keen,  delicate,  and  calm  critic,  spoke  of  him  as 
**  this  master,  whose  feeling  is  so  true,  whose  style 
is  so  elevated,  whose  passion  is  so  profound,  that 
there  is  nothing  in  art  so  beautiful  and  so  perfect." 

If  we  hazarded  an  intrusion  into  the  domestic 
circle  of  Delsarte,  we  should  find  one  of  those  pure 
and  happy  family  groups,  fortunately  for  France  by 
no  means  rare  even  in  her  capital ;  one  of  those 
French  homes  the  existence  of  which  nearly  all 
Englishmen  and  many  Americans  deny.  We  should 
find  a  bond  of  sympathy  and  a  community  of  talent 
uniting  father  and  mother,  two  fair  daughters,  and 
three  brave  sons.  Or,  rather,  we  should  have  found 
this  happy  gathering,  for  the  iron  hand  of  war  has 
broken  the  charmed  ring.     The  dear  old  home  on 


DURIVAGE  ON  DELS  ARTE.  595 

the  Boulevard  de  Courcelles  is  deserted.  Father, 
mother,  and  daughters  were  compelled  to  seek 
refuge  in  the  North  of  France,  the  sons  to  march 
against  the  Prussians.  Let  us  trust  that  long  ere 
this  they  have  reached  home  unwounded,  and  that 
the  grand  old  maestro  has  no  further  ills  in  store  for 
his  declining  years. 


DELSARTE'S    METHOD    FOR    TUNING 

STRINGED  INSTRUMENTS  WITHOUT 

THE    AID    OF    THE   EAR.* 

By  Hector  Berlioz. 

Do  you  hear,  you  pianists,  guitarists,  violinists, 
violoncellists,  contra-bassists,  harpists,  tuners,  and 
you,  too,  conductors  of  orchestras — without  the  aid 
of  the  ear  !  What  a  vast,  incomparable,  nay,  price- 
less discovery,  especially  for  the  rest  of  us  wretched 
listeners  to  pianos  out  of  tune,  to  violins  and  'cellos 
out  of  tune,  to  harps  out  of  tune,  to  whole  orches- 
tras out  of  tune !  Delsarte's  invention  will  now 
make  it  your  positive  duty  to  cease  torturing  us,  to 
cease  making  us  sweat  with  agony,  to  cease  driving 
us  to  suicide. 

Not  only  is  the  ear  of  no  use  in  tuning  instru- 
ments, but  it  is  even  dangerous  to  consult  it ;  it  must 
by  no  possible  chance  be  consulted.  What  an  ad- 
vantage for  those  who  have  no  ear  !  Hitherto,  it  has 
been  just  the  opposite,  and  we  forgave  you  the  tor- 
ments that  you  inflicted  on  us.  But  in  future,  if 
your  instruments  be  out  of  tune,  you  will  have  no 
excuse,  and  we  shall  hand  you  over  to  public  ven- 

*  This  extract  shows  that  Delsarte  was  not  unknown  to  Berlioz.  Mme.  Amaud 
refers  to  the  coldness  with  which  Berlioz  treated  Delsarte.  The  article  given  here  has 
been  translated  so  as  to  preserve  as  nearly  as  possible  the  quaint,  half  sjircastic  style 
pf  the  author.— PuBLisBER. 


BERLIOZ'  ON  DELSARTE.  597 

geance.  Without  the  aid  of  the  ear,  mark  you — 
aid  so  often  useless  and  deceptive. 

Delsarte's  discovery  holds  good  only  for  stringed 
instruments,  but  this  is  much ;  this  is  an  enormous 
gain.  Hence,  it  follows  that  in  orchestras  directed 
and  tuned  without  the  aid  of  the  ear,  there  will  be 
no  more  discords,  save  between  the  flutes,  hautboys, 
clarionets,  bassoons,  horns,  cornets,  trumpets,  trom- 
bones, kettle-drums  and  bass  drums.  The  triangle 
might,  at  a  pinch,  be  tuned  by  the  new  method; 
but  it  is  generally  acknowledged  that  this  is  not 
necessary,  just  as  with  bells,  a  discord  between  the 
triangle  and  the  other  instruments  is  a  good  thing ; 
it  is  popular  in  all  lyric  theatres. 

And  the  singers,  whom  you  do  not  mention,  some- 
one may  ask,  will  it  be  possible  to  make  them  sing 
true,  to  put  them  in  tune?  Two  or  three  of  them 
are  naturally  in  tune.  Some  few,  by  great  care  and 
exactness,  may  be  brought  very  nearly  into  tune. 
But  all  the  others  were  not,  are  not,  and  will  not  be 
in  tune,  either  individually,  or  with  each  other,  or 
with  the  instruments,  or  with  the  leader  of  the 
orchestra,  or  with  the  rhythm,  or  with  the  harmony, 
or  with  the  accent,  or  with  the  expression,  or  with 
the  pitch,  or  with  the  language,  or  with  anything 
resembling  precision  and  good  sense. 

Delsarte  has  made  it  especially  easy  to  tune  the 
piano,  by  means  of  an  instrument  that  he  calls  the 
phonopticon,  which  it  would  take  too  long  to  de- 


598  BERLIOZ   ON  DELS  ARTE. 

scribe  here.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  it  contains  an 
index-hand  that  marks  the  exact  instant  when  two 
or  more  strings  are  in  perfect  unison.  It  may  be 
added  that  the  invariable  result  is  so  absolutely  cor- 
rect, no  matter  who  may  try  it  or  under  what  con- 
ditions, that  the  most  practiced  ear  could  not 
possibly  attain  to  similar  perfection.  Acousticians 
should  not  fail  to  examine  this  invention  at  once, 
the  use  of  which  cannot  be  long  in  becoming 
universal. 


INDEX 


Abdominal  centre,  the,  life,  log 
Accent,  524 
Accord  of  nine,  the,  7 
Actors,  bad,  526 
Adjective,  the,  202 
Adverb,  the,  134,  202 
^Esthetic  division,  chart  of,  482 
Esthetic  fact  of  first  rank,  431 
-Esthetics,  364,  459 

course  of,  applied,  200 

law  of,  208 
Alto  voice,  the,  11 
Anatomy,  461 
Angelo,  Michael,  448 
Angels,  the,  212,  522 
Anger,  153 

Animals  do  not  laugh,  43 
Ankylosed  limbs,  443 
Apollo,  the,  259 
Appoggiatura,  190 
Aquinas,  St.  Thomas,  229 
Archimedean  lever,  439 
Architecture,  application  of  the  law  to,  257 
Aristocrats  lie,  441 
Aristotle,  218 
Arms,  movements  of  the,  87,  396 

five  million  movements  of  the  agents 
of  the,  90 

division  of,  109 

three  centres  in  the,  526 
Art,  523  . 

the  true  aim  of,  47 

all,  has  the  same  principle,  163 

definition  of,  171,  214,  363 

how  Delsarte  considered,  180 

religious  sentiment  in,  211 

the  death  of,  215 

elements  of,  228 

the  plastic,  238 

the  grand,  240,  257 

the  supreme,  241 

dramatic,  lyric  and  oratorical,  244 

best  conditions  for  a  work  of,  261 

object  of,  460 

sources  of  fine,  462 

not  imitation  of  nature,  526 
Article,  the,  202 
Articulate  language,  weakness  of,  48 

origin  and  organic  apparatus  of,  123 

elements  of,  125 
Articulation,  in  the  service  of  thought,  173 
Articulations,  the,  148 
Artificial  breath,  186 
Artistic  personages,  classification  of,  176 


Artist,  the  proclivities  necessary  to  an,  244 

Art-writings  of  the  Greeks,  218 

Attraction,  151 

Attractive  centres,  iii 

Attribute,  the,  130 

Attributes  of  reason,  the,  504 

Audience,  an,  different  from  an  individu- 
al—  the  greater  the  numbers  the  less 
the  intelUgence,  48 


Bacchus,  the,  259 

Balzac,  254 

Bambini,  Father,  277 

Barbier,  254 

Barbot,  Mme.,  339 

Bass  voice,  the,  11 

Baudelaire,  Charles,  254 

Bazile,  M.,  354 

Beautiful,  the,  228,  235,  451,  522 

Beauty  exists  only  in  fragments,  xxv 

moral  and  intellectual,  238 
Belot,  Adolphe,  284 
B^ranger,  254,  315 
Berlioz,  358 
Bizet,  George,  301 
Blanchecotte,  Mme.,  345 
Blangini,  372 
Body,  the,  523 

divisions  of  the,  109 

retroactive  movement  of,  397 
Boileau,  226 
Bonnat,  235,  269 
Breathing,  488 
Brohan,  Madeleine,  334 
Brucker,  Raymond,  198  319,  436 
Buccal  (cheek)  zone,  the,  108 

mach'-pcry   {articulate    speech),   the 
language  of  the  mind,  xxviii 


Calculation  and  artifice,  if  detected,  quick. 

sands  to  the  orator,  163 
Canova,  259 

Captain  Renard,  fable  of,  115 
Captivating  an  audience,  secret  of,  9 
Caress,  the,  99 
Carvalho,  Mme  ,  190,  334 
Charts  classifying  celestial  spirits,  212 
Charts  list  of,  xi 
Chastity,  concave.  80 
Chaudesaigues,  Mile.,  190,  333 
Chest,  the,  186 

the  three  attitudes  of,  84 

divisions  of,  109 


6oo 


INDEX, 


Chest,  a  passive  agent,  495 
Chest-voice,  the,  189 

the  expression  of  the  sensitive  life,  16 

should  be  Uttle  used,  17 

the  eccentric  voice,  18 
Chev6,  M.  and  Mme.,  333 
Children,  why  are  they  graceful  ?  216 
Chopin,  377 
Chorography,  117 
Chorre,  Mother,  291 
Cicero,  3 

Circle,  the,  for  exalting  and  caressbg,  115 
Colin,  372 
Colors,  symbolisni  of,  157,  503 

the  primitive,  158 

the  three  that  symbolize  the  life,  soul 
and  mind,  161 
Color  charts,  the,  503 
Concentric  state,  the,  xxviii 
Conjunction,  the,  135,  182,  203 

the  soul  of  the  discourse,  138 
Consonants,  musical,  17 

are  gestures,  125 

|he  mitial,  130,  187,  528 

variation  in  the  value  of,  136 

beat  time  for  the  pronunciation  of,  141 

every  first,  is  strong,  144 

two  things  to  be  observed  in,  528 
Contemplation  and  retroaction,  424 
Comeille,  249 
Costal  breathing,  186 
Courier,  Paul  Louis,  256 
Cousin,  Victor,  224,  236 
Cries,  34 

Cros,  Antolne,  257 
Czartoriska,  Princess,  345 


Dailly,  Dr.,  345 

Darcier,  335 

Davout,  Marshal,  345 

Death,  the  sign-language  of,  404 

De  Bammeville,  July,  345 

De  Blocqueviile,  Mme.,  345 

De  Chimay,  Princess,  291,  345 

Degrees,  theory  of,  201 

D'Haussonville,  Countess,  345 

D6jazet,  227 

De  Lamartine,  Mme.,  345 

De  la  Madelene,  Jules,  254 

Delaunay,  Charles,  373 

Delivery,  a  hasty,  25 

De  Leomenil,  Mme.  Laure,  345 

Delsarte,  biographical  sketch  of,  xvii 
criterion  of,  160 
method  of,  180 
took  much  time  in  educatbg  a  pupil, 

180 
was  he  a  philosopher  ?  197 
lectures  of,  206,  288,  291,  345 
teachings  of,  211 
the  press  on,  213,  364,  372 
the  discoverer  of  the  law,  227 
can  never  be  reproduced,  245 


Delsarte,  birth,  death,  name,  early  history 
of,  270 

how  he  learned  music,  275 
enters  the  conservatory,  280 
theatre  and  school  of,  283 
becomes  a   teacher  of  singing  and 

elocution,  284 
history  of  the  voice  of,  290 
dramatic  career  of,  291 
recitations  of,  292,  347,  355 
sings  at  the  Court,  293 
marriage  and  family  of,  295 
religion  of,  303 
friends  of,  319 
the  "  Talma  of  music,"  325 
anecdotes  of,  328 
scholars  of,  332 

"  Stanzas  to  Eternity"  of,  335,  341 
"  dear  and  last  pupil "  of,  337 
musical  compositions  of,  341 
an  instance  of  the  singing  of,  343 
shapeless  coat  of,  348 
imitating  defects,  352 
singing  during  lessons,  353 
inventions  of,  357 
BerUoz's  treatment  of,  358 
before  the  Philotechnic  Association, 

361 
and  the  four  professors,  366 
last  years  of,  372 
a  concert  of,  373 


character  and  merit  of. 


374, 


"  Episodes  of  a  Revelator"  of,  377 

America's  offer  to,  377 

return  to  Paris  of,  378 

last  letter  to  the  King  ot  Hanover  of, 

384 
struggles  with  his  teachers,  385 
visit  to  the  dissecting-room,  401 
a  pensioner  of  the  conservatory,  407 
mystical  or  religious  musings  of,  417, 

421 
the  way  of  making  his  discovery,  432 
is  grateful  because  he  had  not  written, 

,^•435   , 

his  book  not  spontaneous,  436 

on  trueness  in  singing,  533 
Delsarte,  Mme.,  maiden  name  of,  295 

beauty  and  talent  of,  347 
Delsarte,  Gustave,  297 
De  Meyendorf,  Mme.,  345 
Demosthenes,  164 
De  Musset,  Alfred,  215 
De  Riancey,  Henry,  309 
DesbaroUes,  345 
Descartes,  ig8 
Deshayes,  M.,  279 
De  Stael,  Mme.,  217,  249 
Devotion,  152 

Diaphragmatic  breathing,  186 
Dictation  exercises,  146 
Discovery,  dawn  of  Delsarte's,  388 
Dissecting-room,  Delsarte's  visit  to  tlie, 
401 


INDEX. 


60 1 


Divine  Majesty,  reflection  of  the,  454 

Divine  reason,  452 

Donoso-Cortes,  M.,342 

Doriot,  345 

DramaUc  singing,  189 

Dugrand,  Delsarte's  struggles  with  papa, 

^385, 

Dupre,  192 

Duprez,  293 

Dynamic  apparatus,  its  composition,  65 

harmony,  468 

wealth,  527 


Ear,  the  most  delicate  sense,  10 

Eccentric  state,  the,  xxviii 

E  flat,  188 

Elbow,  the,  89 

thermometer  of  the  relative  life,  no 
sign  of  humility,  pride,  etc.,  149 

Ellipsis,  182 

Eloquence  holds  first  rank  among  the 
arts,  xviii 

to  be  taught  and  learned,  xxiv 
is  composed  of  three  languages,  xxix 
does  not  always  accompany  mtellect, 
130 

Emotions, 


tender,    expressed    by   high 
notes,  415 
Emphasis,  example  of,  xix,  204 
E  mute  before  a  consonant,  192 

before  a  vowel,  194 
Epic,  the,  247 

Epicondyle,  the  eye  of  the  arm,  89,  150 
Epigastric  centre,  the,  soul,  109 
Epiglottis,  contracting  the,  21 
Epilogue,  163 

Episodes  of  a  Revelator,  377 
Episode  I,  385 
Episode  II,  401 
Episode  III,  412 
Episode  IV,  424 
Episode  V,  430 
Episode  VI,  440 
Episode  VII,  446 
Equilibrium,  the  laws  of,  55 
Error  must  rest  upon  some  truth,  414 
Etruscans,  the,  223 
Evolutions,  passional,  446 
Expiration,  the  sign  of,  54 
Exclamations,  34 
Expression,  very  difficult,  130 

the  whole  secret  of,  144 
Expressive  centres,  in 
Eye,  the  tolerance  of,  1 1 
Eyes,  the,  71 

the  nine  expressions  of,  75 
parallelism  between  the  voice  and 

the,  77 
chart  of  the,  74,  481 
Eyebrow,  the,  72,  77 

the  thermometer  of  the  mind,  77 


F. 

Fables,  recitation  of,  206 

Face,  divided  into  three  zones,  108 

Fact,  the  value  of  a,  132 

Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  455,  4^4 

Fingers,  the,  99 

Fiorentino,  309 

Force  and  interest  consist  in  suspension, 

60 
Form,  the  vestment  of  substance,  237 

definition  of,  463 
Fourier,  Charles,  234 
Free-thinkers,  blindness  of,  403,  4^7 
French  prosody,  143,  196 
French  versification,  192 
Fright,  155  ,  „ 

Frontal  (forehead)  zone,  the,  108 

G. 

Galen,  xxiv 

Garrick,  xxv,  147 

Gautier,  Theophile,  325 

Genal  (chin)  zone,  the,  108 

Geraldon,  334 

Gesture,  in  general,  39,  465 
is  for  sentiments,  39 
its  services  to  humanity,  40 
reveals  the  inner  man,  41 
the  direct  agent  of  the  heart,  43 
the  interpreter  of  speech,  43 
the  interpreter  of  emotion,  173 
an  elliptical  language,  44,  139 
division  of,  45 

harmony  and  dissonance  of,  45 
origin  and  oratorical  value  of,  47 
superior  to  the  other  languages,  49 
is  magnetic,  50 
the  laws  of,  51 

must  always  precede  speech,  51 
retroaction,  52 
joy    and    fright    require    backward 

movement,  53 
equilibrium  the  great  law  of,  55 
the  harmonic  law  of,  56 
parallelism  of,  57,  181 


numbers  of,  57 
Hi 


indicated    by 


lack    of   intelligence 

many,  58 
duration  of,  60 
the  rhythm  of,  61 
importance  of  the  laws  of,  63 
the  semeiotic  or  reason  of,  107 
the  types  that  characterize,  107 
its  modifying  apparatus,  108 
the  inflections  of,  114 
delineation  of,  117 
spheroidal  form  of,  117 
the  sense  of  the  heart,  123 
the  spirit  of,  137 
the  inflection  of  the  deaf,  139 
a  series  of,  for  exercises,  147 
the  static  the  life  of,  147  .       , 

the  semeiotic  the  spirit  and  raUonale 

of,  148 


602 


INDEX. 


(Gesture,  the  dynamic,  148 

the  series  of,  applied  to  the  senti- 
ments oftenest  jxpressed,  150 

the,  of  interpellation,  150 

the,  of  thanks,  affectionate  and  cer- 
emonious, 150 

the,  of  attraction,  151 

the,  of  surprise  and  assurance,  151 

the,  of  devotion,  152 

the,  of  interrogative  surprise,  152 

the,  of  reiterated  interrogation,  153 

the,  of  anger,  153 

the,  of  menace,  153 

the,  of  an  order  for  leaving,  154 

the,  of  reiteration,  154 

the,  of  fnght,  155 

three  important  rules  for,  156 

how  produced,  177 

dilatory,  182 

difficulty  in,  385 

object  of,  465 

definition  of,  466 

without  a  motive,  524 
Giraudet,  Alfred,  335 

*  report  of  Delsarte's  lecture,  533 
Gluck,  191,  278,  350,  356   359,  372 
Crod,  the  spirit  of,  in  all  things,  417 

how  He  reveals  thines,  422 

a  pretext  for  every  Utopia,  453 

the  archetype,  522 
Good,  the,  228,  231,  522 
Gospel,  the,  directs  investigation,  417 
Gounod,  345 
Grace,  148,  217 

Great  movements  for  exaltation  of  senti- 
ment, 58 
Greeks,  the,  had  no  school  of  aesthetics, 

221 

Groans,  34 

Gueroult,  Adolphe,  213,  293 
Guide-accord,  the,  of  Delsarte,  358 
Gymnastics,  the  grand  law  of  organic, 
xxviii 
the  practice  of,  163 

H. 

Habit,  107 

Halevy,  293 

Hand,  the,  another  expression  of  the  face, 

7^ 

expressions  of  the,  79 

its  three  presentations,  91 

criterion  of  the,  94 

chart  of,  94,  481 

the  digital  face,  96 

the  back  and  the  palmar  face,  97 

the  three  rhythmic  actions,  98 

the,  in  natural  surprise,  3^ 

the,  in  death,  405 

attitudes  of  the,  472 

in  affirmation,  473 

the  nine  physiognomies  of,  475 
Handel,  372 
Harmony,  232,  529 


Harmony,  bom  of  contrasts,  55 

is  in  opposition,  143 
Head,  the,  movements  of,  65 

the  ocapital,  parietal  and  temporal 
zones,  109 

the  primary  agent  of  movement,  149 

action  of,  in  surprise,  396 

which  side  is  for  the  soul  and  which 
for  the  senses  ?  427 

attitudes  of,  428,  433,  469 
Head-voice,  the,  189 

how  produced,  16 

interprets  mental  phenomena,  16 

the  concentric  voice,  18 
Heart,  when  to  carry  the  hand  to  the,  54 
Hegel,  321 
Hervet,  309 

High  head,  small  brain,  71 
Hippias,  223 
Hoffinan,  253 
Horace,  3 

Hugo,  235,  249,  254 
Humanity  is  crippled,  xxv 
Human  reason,  452 

Human  science,  the  alpha  and  omega  of,  7 
Human  tripUcity,  the,  210 
Human  word  composed  of  three   lan-i 
guages,  39,  129 


I. 

Ideal,  the,  238 

Imitation,  the  melody  of  the  eye,  128 

uselessness  of,  386 
Immanences,  the,  523 
Impressionalism,  262 
Impressions  and  sensations,  486 
Individual  type,  how  formed,  176 
Infant,  the,  has  neither  speech  nor  ges- 
ture, 47 
Infinitesimal  quantities,  443 
Inflection,  a  modification  of  sound,  9 

their  importance,  29 

illustrations  of,  31 

rules  of,  32 

must  not  be  multiplied,  33 

special,  34 

life  revealed  through  four  millions  of, 
123 

the  melody  of  the  ear,  128 

the  gesture  of  the  blind,  139 

differentiating  the,  183 

high,  418 

life  of  speech,  487 

medallion  of,  498 
Ingres,  290 
Inspiration,  when  allowable,  28 

the  sign  of,  54 
Interjection,  the,  139,  182,  203 
Interpellation,  150 
Interrogative  surprise,  152 
Intonations,  caressing,  414 
Italian,  no  two  equal  sounds  in,  143 


INDEX. 


603 


J. 

Jacob,  Mile.,  190,  334 

Jacotot,  277 

Jesus  of  Nazareth,  220 

Joncieres,  235 

Joy,  the  greatest  in  sorrow,  22 

Joys,  keen,  450 

K. 

Kant,  167 

King  of  Hanover,  377 

Delsarte's  last  letter  to  the,  384 
King  Louis  Philippe,  293 
Kreutzer,  315 


Lablache,  293 

Laboring  men,  the  ways  of,  40 

Lachrymose  tone  disgusting,  22 

Lacordaire,  466 

La  Fontaine,  206,  367 

La  Harpe,  226 

Lamaitre,  Fredenck,  227 

Lamartine,  254 

Lamentation,  34 

Language,  465 

Laocoon,  the,  259 

Larynx,  the,  9 
coloring  of,  18 

lowering  the,  ^4        ,  .  .      ,., 

the  thermometer  of  the  sensitive  hfe, 

30 
Larynxes,  artificial,  185 
Latin  prosody,  144 
Laugh,  signification  of  the,  16 

Its  composition,  35 
Law,  definition  of,  208 

application  of  the,  to  various  arts,  243 
Legouve,  195  . 

Legs,  the,  and  their  attitudes,  100,  477 
Leibnitz,  198,  250 
Leroux,  Pierre,  172,  208,  218,  357 
Liars  do  not  elevate  their  shoulders,  86 
Life,  the  sensitive  state,  xxvii 
principal  elements  of,  210 
the  phenomena  of,  4^3 

Light,  523 

Lind,  Jenny,  333,  377  ,  _ 

Literary  remains  of  Delsarte,  383 

Literature,  the  law  applied  to,  246 

Littre's  Dictionary,  195,  208 

Logic  often  in  default,  22,  516 

Longus,  256 

Louvre,  false  pictures  in  the,  407 

Love  gives  more  than  it  receives,  43 

Lovers,  the  gaze  of,  426 

Loyson,  Father,  319 

Lucht,  Auguste,  317 

Lully,  373 

Lungs,  the,  9 

Lyric  art,  184 


M. 

Malherbe,  337 
Malibran,  227,  281 
Man,  522  ,  . 

the  three  phases  of,  xxvu         . 
either    painter,    poet,    scientist,    or 

mystic,  91 
three  types  in,  107 
the  object  of  art,  171,  243,  251 
a  triplicity  of  persons,  172 
the  agent  of  aesthetics,  232 
•when  a  man  shrinks,  397 
unfamiliar  to  himself,  448 
Marcello,  259 
Marie,  Franck,  372 
Mars.  339 
Martellato,  191 
Massenet,  235 
Materialism,  250 
Measure,  496         _    . 

in  oratorical  diction,  25 
Medallion  of  inflection,  498 
Mediocrity,  33  .  , 

Medium  voice,  the  expressioa  of  moral 
emotions,  16 

the  normal  voice,  18 

Melody,  529         ,       ,  ,      j   ^ 

Menace,  the  head  and  hand,  69 

Mengs,  222,  258 

Mental  or  reflective  state,  4 

Mercie,  235,  260 

Mind,  the  intellectual  state,  xxvi 

Mode  simpliste,  233 

Modest  people  turn  out  the  elbow,  90 


Moliere,  249 

Monsabre,  Father,  340 

Moral  or  affective  state,  4 

Mother,  the  voice  of  the,  414 

Mother  vowel,  the,  14  . 

Motion,  distinction  and  vulgarity  ot,  404 

Mouth,  the,  9 

no  contraction  of  back  part,  23 

openings  of,  for  various  vowels,  15 

a  vital  thermometer,  527 
Movements  from  various  centres,  no 

flexor,  rotary,  and  abductory,  114 

initial  forms  of,  526 
Mucous  membrane,  transmitter  of  sound, 

Muscular  machinery  (gesture),  the  lan- 
guage of  emotion,  xxvii 
Music,  the  seven  notes  of,  160 
a  succession  of  sounds,  535 
Musset,  249 

N. 

Napoleon  III,  327 
Nasal  cavities,  the,  13 
Naturalism,  250 
Ninefold  accord,  the,  175 
Normal  state,  the,  xxvui 
Nose,  a  complex  and  important  agent,  113 
I         nine  divisions  of,  113 


6o4 


INDEX. 


Nose,  a  moral  thermometer,  527 
Notes,  high,  for  tender  emotions,  415 
Nourrit,  Adolph,  192,  281 
Number,  496 

O. 

Occipital  zone,  the  life,  109 

Ontology,  460 

Opposition  of  agents,  55 

Orator,  the,  should  be  a  man  of  worth, 

xxiii 
Oratorical  sessions,  448 
Oratory,  definition  of,  xxvi 

the  science  of,  not  yet  taught,  3 

the  essentials,  3 

the  fundamental  laws  of,  4 

the  criterion  of,  5 

the  student  of,  should  not  be  a  servile 
copyist,  64 

three  important  rules  for  the  student 
of,  156 

symbolism  of  colors  applied  to,  157 

perseverance  and  work  necessary  to 
the  student  of,  164 
Order  for  leaving,  an,  154 
Organic  chart,  480 

P. 

Painter,  how  a,  examines  his  work,  424 
Painting,  appUcation  of  the  law  to,  264 
Palate,  the,  13 
Pantomime,  secrets  of,  213 
Parietal  zone,  the  soul,  109 
Particle,  the,  202 
Pasca,  Mme.,  335 
Passion,  420 

of  signs,  459 
Passive  attitude,  the  type  of  energetic 

natures,  55 
Pasta,  Mme.,  245 

People,  vulgar  and  uncultured,  419 
Pergolesi,  372 

Phenomena,  natural,  contain  lessons,  417 
Phidias,  222 

Philotechnic  Association,  361 
Physiolo^,  461 

Plato,  XXIV,  218,  228,  230,  365,  451 
Poe,  Edgar  A.,  253 

Poets  are  bom,  orators  are  made,  xxiv 
Poise,  232 

lack  of,  in  body,  387 
Powers,  the,  523 
Praxiteles,  222 

Preacher,  a,  must  not  be  an  actor,  59 
Preposition,  the,  202 
Pricette,  Father,  318 
Principiants  and  principiates,  4,'54 
Processional  relations,  theory  of,  454 

reversal  of,  456 
Professors,  Delsarte  and  the  four,  366 
Progressions,  419 
Pronoun,  the,  141,  202 
Pronunciation,  191 


Proudhon,  226 
Pythagoras,  220,  223,  484 


Quintilian,  3 


R. 


R,  cure  of  the  faulty,  192 
Rachel,  xviii,  131,  339,  374 
Racine,  137,  373 
Rainbow,  the,  159 

the  colors  of,  160 
Rameau,  373 
Random  notes,  522 
Raphael's  picture  of  Moses,  a  fault  in,  41, 

86.  448 
Ravignan,  466 
Reaction,  464,  522,  527 
Realism,  250 
Reason,  461,  462* 

a  blind  faculty,  390 

an  act  of  faith,  395 

the  attributes  of,  504 
Reber.  273,  337,  345 
Reboul,  308 
Recitative,  184 
Reiterated  interrogation,  153 
Reiteration,  154 

Respect,  a  sort  of  weakness,  loi 
Respiration,  186 

suppressing  the,  21 

and  silence,  9,  26 

three  movements  of,  28 

multiplied,  28 

to  facilitate,  29 

vocal,  logical,  passional,  488,  489 
Respiratory  acts,  their  signification,  29 
Retroaction,  397,  424 
Reverence,  the  sign  of,  398 
Reynaud,  Jean,  198 
Rhythmus,  529 
Romagnesi,  372 
Rossini,  359 
Roulade,  191 
Routine,  524 
Royer,  Mme.,  Clemence,  229 


St.  Augustine,  xxiv,  229,  451,  513,  535 

St.-Saens,  235 

St.-Simonism,  247 

St.  Thomas,  506,  508,  513 

Salutatioo,  the  sign  of,  398 

Sand,  George,  249,  343 

Schiller,  249 

Science,  bases  of  the,  171 

and  art,  523 
Scientists,  cause  of  the  failure  of,  423 
Sculptor,  aims  of  the,  258 
Sculpture,  application  of  the  law  to,  258 
Semeiotics,  109,  460 

of  the  shoulder,  430 
Senses,  the,  522 


INDEX. 


605 


Sensibility,  thermometer  of,  438 

Sensitive  nature  betrayed  by  voice,  173 

Sensitive  or  vital  state,  4 

Sensualism,  convex,  80 

Sensuality,  427,  433 

Sentiment,  430 

Shades  and  inflections,  182 

Shakespeare,  249,  291 

Shoulder,  the,  85 

thermometer  of  love,  77,  85,  432,  434 
the  sensitive  life,  no,  437 

the  sign  of  passion,  149 

action  of,  in  surprise,  396 

thermometer  of  emotions,  396 

semeiotics  of,  430,  439 

in  the  aristocratic  world,  441 
Sigh,  the,  34 
Signs  of  passion,  459 
Silence,  the  father  of  speech,  26 

the  speech  of  God,  27 

the  rule  of,  27 
Simplisme,  234,  247,  250,  264 
Sincerity  intolerable,  442 
Singing,  35 
Sob, the,  34 

Societies,  meeting  of  the  learned;  200 
Socrates,  218,  306 
Sontag,  Mme.,  xviii,  333,  349 
Soprano  voice,  the,  11 
Sorbonne, the,  361 
Soul,  the  moral  state,  xxvii,  522 
Soulie,  Frederic,  254 
Sound,  the  first  language  of  man,  9 

revelation  of  the  sensitive  life,  10 

is  painting,  18 

should  be  homogeneous,  23 

every  sound  is  a  song,  33 

the  sense  of  the  life,  123 

reflection  of  divine  image,  484 
Souvestre,  Emile,  254 
Speech,  486 

the  omnipotence  of,  xxiii 

inferior  to  gesture,  48 

anticipated  by  gesture,  51 

the  sense  of  the  intelligence,  123 

the  three  agents  of,  124 

oratorical  value  of,  127 

soul  of,  487 

visible  thought,  528 
Spontini,  273,  350 
Standard,  value  of  a,  443 
Subject,  the,  130 
Subjectivity  in  aesthetics,  236 
Substantive,  the,  202 
Sue,  Eugene,  254 
Sully-Prudhomme,  249 
Surprise  and  assurance,  151 
System,  462 

T. 
Talma,  xxv,  140,  227,  373 
Teachers,  ignorance  of  the,  386,  400 
Tears,  accessory  matters,  22 
to  be  shed  only  at  home,  24 


Temporal  region,  the  mind,  109 

Tenderness,  427,  433 

Tenor  voice,  the,  11 

Thanks,  affectionate  and  :eremonious,  150 

Thermometers,  the  three,  77 

the  articular  arm-centres  called,  no 
Thermometric  system  of  the  shoulder,  440 
Theresa,  227 

Thoracic  centre,  the  mind,  109 
Threatening  with  the  shoulder,  70 
Thumb,  the  thermometer  of  the  will,  77 

has  much  expression,  no 

the  sign  of  life,  149 

the,  in  death,  404 

living  mimetics  of,  408 

the  thermometer  of  life  and  death,  409 
Thyrcis,  372 
Tone,  position  of,  187 
Tones,  the  lowest,  best  understood,  21 

prologation  of,  25 
Torso,  the,  84 

divisions  of,  85 

chart  of,  482 
"  Treatise  on  Reason,"  197 
Tremolo,  the,  529 
Trinitarians,  the,  316 
Trinity,  the,,  198,  453 

the  holy,  recovered  in  sound,  484 
True,  the,  228,  522 
Trueness  in  singing,  533 
Truth,  men  are  divided  in  regard  to,  413 
Types,  the,  in  man,  107 
Typical  arrangements,  456 

phrases,  183 

U. 
Uchard,  Mario,  333 
Ugly,  the,  232 

Upnghtness,  perpendicular,  80 
Uvula,  raising  the,  16 


Values,  the  law  of,  136 

resume  of  the  degrees  of,  141 

Verb,  the,  131,  202 

Verdi,  359 

Veron,  Eugene,  223 

Vertebrae,  three  sorts  of,  113 

Vice,  hideousness  of,  232 

Vicious  arrangements,  456 

Violent  emotion,  in,  the  voice  stifled,  xxvi 

Virtues,  the,  523 

Vision,  three  sorts  of,  449 

Vital  breath,  186 

Vocal  cords,  fatiguing  the,  17 

Vocal  music,  184 

Vocal  organ,  the,  490 

Vocal  shades,  law  of,  414 

Vocal  tube,  the,  must  not  vary  for  a  loud 
tone,  23 

Voice,  the  charms  of,  9 
organic  apparatus  of,  9 
a  mysterious  hand,  ij 


6o6 


INDEX, 


Voice,  the  kinds  of,  ii 

the  registers  of,  12,  492 

meaning  of  the  high  and  deep,  13 

the  language  of  the  sensitive  hfe,  13 

the  chest,  the  medium,  the  head,  15 

the  white,  18 

dimensions  and  intensity  of,  19 

how  to  obtain  a  stronger,  19 

three  modes  of  developing,  20 

method  of  diminishing,  21 

the  less  the  emotion,  the  stronger  the, 

21 
how  to  gain  resonance,  24 
a  tearful,  a  defect,  24 
the  tremulous,  of  the  aged,  24 
the  rhythm  of  its  tones,  25 
must  not  be  jerky,  26 
inflections  of,  29 
great  affinity  between  the  arms  and 

the,  114 
exercises  for,  188 
the  mixed,  188 
tenuity  and  acuteness  of,  419 
shades  of,  414,  420 
definition  of  the,  491 
shading  of  the,  493 
pathetic  eflfects  in  the,  494 


Voice,  tearing  of  the,  495 

two  kinds  of  loud,  526 
Voltaire,  193,  208 
Volubility,  too  much,  25 
Vowels  correspond  to  the  moral  state,  125 

length  of  the  initial,  144 


Wartel,  301 


W. 


Weight,  497 

what  I  Propose,"  448 
Will,  the,  486 
Winkelmann,  222 
Wisdom.  461,462  • 

Wolf  and  the  lamb,  the  fable  of  the,  138 
Words,  the  value  of,  in  phrases,  130 

dwelling  on  the  final,  131 
Worlds,  three,  presented,  449 
Wrist,  the,  90 

thermometer  of  the  physical  life,  iic 
Writing,  a  dead  letter,  128 

Z. 

Zaccone,  Pierre,  317 
ZeuxLs,  ?.2^ 
Zola.,  M.,  244,  284 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UMVrnSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 

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